Final Intimacies
by Riter544
Summary: You never know someone until you've been inside their head. You never know the value of your life until you are about to lose it. There is nothing more intimate than being with someone as they die. Manga based and complete
1. Boy Number 7: Yoshitoki Kuninobu

I'm dying.

No, there's no metaphor here. I'm really dying.

I can't feel the bottom half of my face. That's probably a good thing, since I'm sure the pain would be unbearable. I can still move my tongue a little, and when I do, it hits empty air where my cheek used to be. I can hear muffled screams, but what really echoes in my ears is that gunshot.

My foot's twitching. I want it to stop, but then my arm spasms as well. One of my eyes rolls of to the side, and to my surprise, I can easily see up Satomi's skirt. I never really thought too much about Satomi – but it's funny where your mind wanders when the life is draining out of you. My other eye trails further down the aisle of desks. I see people staring at me in horror, and I can only imagine what I must look like.

Slowly, my side eye blanks out on me, but that doesn't faze me anymore. I must be going into shock. My back arches like my body recognizes the pain I'm in, even though I can't feel any of it. My good eye finally falls on the all too familiar face. His dark brown eyes stare intensely at me.

"Shu…" I try to say his name, but it's difficult to say it with part of my tongue gone. My eye is watering over. I don't want him to remember me like this. I want to tell him to run. I want him to run as far away as he can from this place. I know that he, along with everyone else, is trapped inside this room by the soldiers with guns. But I want him to escape. I know what will happen if Shuuya stays. He's too considerate, too compassionate. He's going to die. If he can escape…

It's funny where your mind wanders when the life is draining out of you. Shuuya can't escape. None of us can. Me? I'm just the first. Does that make me lucky? It sure doesn't feel like it. I never felt like I was lucky. The lucky kids still had theirs parents to care for them, to love them. I was born unlucky. I can see the pain in Shuuya's face. He doesn't think I'm lucky either.

It's strange how different Shuuya looks when he's not smiling. Now, I can't seem to remember a time when he wasn't smirking. I'm sure that that happened at some point, especially when he was first dropped off at the orphanage. I was already there at that point, the face of my true mother already removed from my memory. But even that summer when he was cut from the baseball team, all I can remember is Shuuya standing on top of that ridiculous slide with the guitar in his hands, smiling his wide grin as he attempted to play the instrument for the first time. I want to tell him to smile for me, just one more time, but all I can manage is the first syllable of his name.

A sound finally breaks through the echoing inside my ears. It's a voice, a girl's voice. Suddenly, her face appears before mine. Noriko's eyes are wide with concern, staring down into what remains of my face. It's a relief to see her again. Noriko reminds me so much of Ms. Ryoko. And I don't mean physically, since the two females don't resemble each other in the least. Ms. Ryoko is a fully developed woman, with the curves a child can nestle into and feel completely secure. Noriko is still a girl, and her small frame leaves her looking fragile and vulnerable almost all of the time. But there's a strength she exudes from time to time, which surprises everyone who witnesses it. No, the two females are similar in a different way.

The two of them leave an impression on you before you even realize that they have done so. I don't think I can describe it any other way than that. It's more of a realization that they are truly important to you at some unspecific moment in time. Ms. Ryoko was like a mother to me, and now I recognize that it was stupid of me to hope for something other than that. I remember when I understood how important she was to me. I was lying in bed, listening to the soft snore of the other children around me, when a strange thought struck me. I realized that I would die for Ms. Ryoko. The idea was completely unprovoked. It felt more like a form of enlightenment, like understanding the truth behind everything. If Ms. Ryoko asked me to die for her, or even if she didn't ask, I would.

Noriko was different than that, but the idea was virtually the same. I sensed her absence when she caught the flu for a week. I could feel where should be sitting, could almost hear the words I knew she would say. And I recognized how much emptier our group of friends felt without her presence. The way her big eyes light up when she gets a rush of emotion. That soft giggle she'd leak out from time to time. Who knows, if I had woken up from my Ms. Ryoko fantasy, maybe I could have had something with Noriko. No, that's not realistic either. Noriko likes Shuuya, even I can see that.

I think that the gunshot has returned to echo inside my ears once again, when Noriko recoils away from me, her scream piercing the air around me. I realize it at once – she's been shot. The fury raises inside me again. The anger that has cost me my life. I can see Shuuya again, the conflict mixing in his face. He wants to jump in, but he's scared. That's good Shuuya, stay scared, I want to tell him. You may leave this classroom in one piece. And with me and Noriko gone, you won't have to worry about trying to protect us. Stick with Mimura – the two of you can figure out something.

But Noriko isn't gone. My rage subsides when I hear her voice again. It wavers with pain, but I can hear the strength behind it, the power no one knows she holds. She's asking Mr. Kamon to save me. She doesn't understand yet. No one gets saved. I know what's coming next. Kamon makes a comment, and with what I realize will be my last words, I speak to him.

"Fuck you." I try to say. It comes out all wrong, but no one misinterprets it. Everyone inside the classroom knows what's coming next. Everyone except Noriko, it seems. She's still near me, pleading with Kamon, begging him to save me. I can almost feel them desperately trying to look away, not wanting to see what happens to me. But everyone keeps their eyes on me, waiting for Kamon to make his move. And he makes it.

Is it ironic that my anger has gotten me killed? I don't get angry, because I hate how it makes me feel. The anger burns inside me and I realize that I could do something drastic with those feelings of rage and hate. Something drastic like kill someone. Or run face first into a revolver. I don't remember the definition of irony anymore, I don't know if my death is ironic.

The barrel of the gun is shoved toward my forehead.

It's funny where your mind wanders when you're dead.


	2. Girl Number 18: Fumiyo Fujiyoshi

I can't breathe. The air is too thick to swallow, too thick to inhale. Where is that coming from? Is it just the tension? I don't think so. Yoshitoki's blood is hanging in the air. Even in my seat all the way on the other side of the room, I can taste his blood as it flows from the hole that used to be his face. It's already tough for me to picture what he used to look like. Every time I blink, I see the shower of blood that exploded after the first shot. The fact that Yoshitoki was still alive after that nearly makes me vomit. I want to forget what I've just seen, even though it's burned in my memory forever.

How much time has passed since the moment the second bullet ends Yoshitoki's life? I have no idea. After that moment passed, everything appeared to happen so quickly. But now time has slowed down again. It's almost like time is standing still. My classmates shift in their seats as Mr. Kamon breathes heavily through his mouth. How can he possibly be inhaling so deeply? Can't he feel the blood hanging in the air? Why isn't the moisture gathering in the back of his throat like it is mine? Why can't I breathe?

I remove my consciousness from my breathing. If I don't concentrate on it as much, maybe I'll find it easier to do. I try to think of anything besides the situation I've been thrown into. My mind searches frantically for anything to occupy my thoughts, but all I can see is the splash of blood falling away from Yoshitoki's face. Fear takes over my body, and I latch onto the desktop in front of me. The thought occurs that I might accidentally fall out of chair, and then Mr. Kamon would slowly point that gun at my face, his cold eyes staying harsh even when his face is smiling.

I shake the thought away and grasp the desk tighter until my knuckles go white. I slowly shift my eyes to the side. I want to know where my friends are. I'm sure I spotted them when I first woke up in this classroom, but already my mind is a blank. I'm completely unaware where we are all sitting. I can see Chisato on the opposite side of the classroom, her exceptionally long hair hiding a portion of her face. But the rest of the faces I could see were almost foreign to me, twisted into expressions of anxiety and fear. I wonder if anyone is looking at me, seeing the fear in my face. But I know that's not happening, not even with my friends. They've already forgotten me.

I know who I am to everyone. I'm the girl who is your best friend. You and I do everything together. We go to the movies. We go shopping. We chat secretly about which boys are the cutest and which we'd do anything for. But sooner or later we leave each other. Maybe it's a week long vacation with your parents. Maybe it's a few months at summer camp. Maybe it's the two days you were out with the chicken pox. But whatever the time period, suddenly your back. And that's when it happens.

We finally meet up again. You seem uncomfortable at first, and it's blatantly obvious. But slowly, we return to the groove we established before our slight parting. We go to the movies again. We go shopping again. We chat secretly again. We return to what we were before the time in which we weren't in contact. And then, right before we say goodbye for the day, you say it.

"You know, Fumiyo, I really missed you."

Sounds innocent enough. But it's not. The way you tell me that you missed me, your eyes are wide in surprise, your smile is sheepish. It's not me who is surprised by your comment, it's you. I could see it from the moment you saw me again. That strange way you tilt your head when I approach you. The slow careful way you pick your words instead of speaking naturally. This is nothing new to me. I know what has happened over my absence. You have forgotten me. I'm not completely wiped from your memory, but you forget what we had. The movies we viewed together, the things we bought together, the secrets we shared together, have all slipped your mind. I'm the girl you don't even know you miss until I return to your sight, only to disappear again when I leave your view.

You'd think I'd be upset about this turn of events. After all, what kind of friend forgets another in such a short time? But I'm not mad. After all, I can't be angry about something that is, ultimately, my fault. I must have been born this way. I'm the best friend you'll never remember you had. You'll remember the bully who stole your lunch money for two weeks, or the teacher who lost her job for getting pregnant out of wedlock. But me? I'm gone when we separate.

I've tried to fix this strange tick in my friendships, but it's inevitable. I can't keep up with everyone. People think it strange when I call so often over the summer, or when I stop by for a visit when they're sick. So instead, I've improved my reintegration strategies. I bring up lots of past memories, reminding you of times that have temporarily been replaced. Your memory responds almost immediately. And our friendship continues.

But right now, I'm not concerned with the trouble I've gone through in the past to keep my friends. What worries me is their memory. What happens when we walk out of this classroom? Fear takes over, if it hasn't already. I grip the desk tighter. I can feel the blood pumping in the tips of my fingers. They're going to forget me. My friends, the people I've worked so hard to keep in my life, will leave me behind. Even if they somehow get together, I will be forgotten. I just know it!

I take a deep gulp of air and swallow it down like water. My eyes are fixed on Mr. Kamon as I slowly turn my head. Time is still standing still, and it doesn't seem like it will start up again any time soon. I shoot my eyes across the classroom, and I see in my peripheral vision that Yukio is sitting right behind me, nervously fidgeting with her bangs. Yukio was always considered the leader of our group. She was the one who organized everything, who always planned everything out. If I need anyone to remember me, it is her.

Mr. Kamon starts speaking again and I jump in my seat. It takes all my strength not to scream from the broken silence, but I force it back inside my body. Time has resumed. Everyone has returned to their seats. A knot sits uncomfortably in my stomach. I need to remind Yukio not forget me, but when am I going to get that chance? It would be too obvious during a silence. My mouth dries up unexpectedly. I don't want risk moving in my desk again, but I know that my only chance to speak to Yukio is when Mr. Kamon is talking, so that he doesn't hear me.

I take a deep breath, and I realize that the air has gotten easier to breathe. I wait for just the correct moment, and suddenly I see it. Mr. Kamon turns his fat face to address the opposite side of the classroom, and has his back turned toward me. I lean backwards in my seat and turn my face sideways. As I break my gaze away from the government official, my mind screams at me, asking if I'm crazy.

But it's going to be okay. All I have to do is look at Yukio, look at her straight in the eyes, and tell her not to forget me. Three little words, whispered in the foot of distance between our faces and I'll be turned back around in my seat, my eyes once again on Mr. Kamon's short figure. But the knot will be gone. The fear will still be inside me, but at least I know I won't have to be alone. All I have to do is remind them that I'm important to them.

"Yukio..." I managed to exhale. And I can hear Mr Kamon's loud voice as he screams something. I spin my head to stare at him, praying that he's not looking in my direction. I wish that he's staggering away from one of the guards, the front of his suit stained with the same dark blood oozing away from Yoshitoki's corpse. I hope that the bastard falls over dead and the guards quickly escort the children out of the classroom, where we will be led to safety, a rebellion of the armed forces that should be protecting us.

But Mr. Kamon is staring directly at me, and in one fluid motion, snaps he hand at me. Time slows down again. I can see the dagger heading straight for my face. I want to cry out. I want to move. I scream at myself inside my head to shift over to the side. But the dagger is too fast even when time has stopped. My short hair rushes to my face as my heads snaps back and falls limply on the desktop behind me. I stare up at Yukio as tears form in her eyes.

"Don't forget me!" I try to scream at her, but my mouth doesn't respond. It's too late. The darkness swells over my vision, as I slowly feel myself drifting away. Being forgotten.


	3. Girl Number 14: Mayumi Tendo

I stop in the hallway just outside the classroom. I take a deep breath to calm myself down. It doesn't work all that much. I could begin my breathing exercises, but that's not particularly necessary at the moment. There's time for that later, when I'm away from the school. For the moment, I still have approximately a minute and a half before the next student is released from the classroom.

My mind instinctively travels back to my lessons at The School. All the training I went through doesn't seem so useless anymore. When my parents enrolled me in The School, I flat out refused to go. After all, the chances of my class being picked for The Program were microscopic. But in the end, I attended. And I learned.

The weapon list instantly floats through my mind. I'm trained in every melee weapon, from blades and blunt objects, to even the useless ones like the dinner fork. I remember holding the katana in my hand for the first time, swinging it wildly at the test dummies. But slowly I progressed in the art form of the blade, and as soon as I was proficient at that, they moved me to the box cutter. Then to the nun chucks. The machete. The police baton. And so on.

The firing weapons are easier to master. Once you've fired one gun, you've basically fired them all. The shotgun only requires some extra girth behind the blast. And the bow gun is also slightly different, but only because reloading takes longer. Plus, the arrows themselves can be used as weapons. My mind is overflowing with weapon information. The first rule of weaponry is to be well-rounded. Guns are handy, but lose their usefulness when the opponent has crept up on you with an ice pick. Plus, they make plenty of noise that draws unwanted attention. I remember the need for a long range and a quiter short range weapon. Whichever one I am given, my first objective is to search for the one I am missing.

I pray for a gun. My firing accuracy is better than anyone else studying in The School at that time. Of course, the other students were children of the higher ups, mostly the children of the people who developed The School in the first place. None of them seemed to have prior training, and took to the lessons slowly. Some of the kids were nice enough, but some stared right past you like you weren't worthy of notice. The remaining students always appeared anxious and their eyes darted around the room constantly, as if they had already been chosen for The Program. But that wasn't what The School was. The School was a secretive training facility for any child still eligible for The Program, at quite a steep price. Yes, The School was secretive. After all, if word got around that there was training for kids before they entered The Program, well, then everyone would stand an equal chance of winning again.

I quickly unzip my bag and examine the contents. Map, compass, water, bread…My eyes settle on the object hidden in the corner of the bag. My hand closes around the weapon and pulls it from the duffel. The nun chucks swing lazily in my grip. They aren't my favorite weapon, but they would suffice. I stuff them back into the bag and zip it back up. I reach back and tighten my one long braid that stops halfway down my back. Having my hair tied back helps keep it out of my eyes in the middle of combat. But now it's also long enough that I could hide a smaller weapon inside the entwined strands of hair.

In the case of a melee weapon, I recall, it will be necessary to get close to other contestants to effectively do damage. The School provided acting lessons as well, and while that was one part in which I didn't excel, I could make myself cry at once, which is good for disarming a possible victim.

There would be some easy kills, most of the girls usually. I am close enough to them that they will trust me, but I don't have any real friends in my class. This is the moment I've been waiting for ever since I entered The School. All the work I put into my studies. All the physical sores and close calls I made with my weapons practice. All the information regarding survival in the wilderness, rationing food, finding alternate supplies. All my acting lessons and my memorizations. Keeping myself at a reasonable distance from everyone else in the class to avoid emotions against killing them. This is the moment I've trained for.

I take a few more steps down the hall, the open door looming just in front of me. It is much darker in this hallway than in the classroom. The night seems to swell around me. Just like my instructors told me, the fear is tough to overcome. But fear is the mind killer. If I'm going to get out of this alive, I need to keep thinking. I need to keep planning. My class has some serious contenders that I won't be able to take out easily. I have to make sure that I'm always a few steps ahead of the rest of them. If I can remain in the lead, then my victory is guaranteed.

But then again, who would ever suspect meek little Mayumi Tendo to be anything other than innocent?

I may be able to claim a new record. No, I know I'll claim the record. I've known for a while. I knew the day The School invited some vagrants down to our underground classroom. They wanted us to practice killing live targets. And when I slit the throat of that hairy homeless man, I knew I could take the record. This is my chance to shine!

But first thing's first. My body still has too much adrenaline running through it. Once I leave the school, I will find a quiet place to calm myself down. Once I successfully do that, I'll search some of the residential areas for hiding victims, and slowly stockpile my arsenal. Each death brings me closer to that new record.

I finally emerge outside the school building, and I quickly scan the surrounding area. Every contestant before me is gone, as I expected. I pause for a moment, because I'm almost sure I hear breathing, but dismiss the idea. Everyone else is so terrified at what's happening, none of them are in the shape to play yet. My education at The School has informed me that a majority of the deaths in The Program occur during the second day. That's when the truth settles into many contestants. Most play only after the fear and insanity take over. How long that takes varies from person to person.

I wander a few more steps and freeze again. I'm positive I've heard something this time. It takes a moment, but I realize that the noise has come from above me. I glance upwards just in time to see the crossbow being aimed at me face from the overhang above the door. I flinch as the trigger is pulled and the arrow clatters off the side of the weapon. It wasn't loaded correctly, and I now have my chance to escape.

I take off straight ahead of me, running a slightly erratic route to throw off my attacker's aim, just like I was trained. I hear a voice grunt in frustration and fear, and I realize that it belongs to the class crybaby, Akamatsu. His face appears in front of my mind's eye for a moment, his giant face stretched into a dopey grin. That's who is behind me with a crossbow? Out of complete and utter surprise, I pause momentarily to glance back at my attacker.

I recognize my mistake almost immediately. You must never stop and wait for your attacker. Giving them another chance at stealing your life is the same as forfeiting it. How could I forget such a basic rule? It's because I've forgotten something else The School taught me. The role of luck. Skill counts for something, but so does luck. Akamatsu got lucky.

I don't even get to turn my head completely around to stare at him. His second arrow is loaded correctly, and has already penetrated deep into my temple before I realize it's there. I feel my legs give out as I collapse to the ground. All my training. All my hard work. All my information. All gone to shit!

Without luck, my skill counts for nothing.


	4. Boy Number 1: Yoshio Akamatsu

The first thing I feel is the pain in my shoulder. It stings, but it's not as painful as I expected it to be. Usually, bumps and bruises cause me much more discomfort than this. I have a low threshold for pain. Tiny cuts to other people are felt much more strongly to me, magnifying my pain response ten times more than normal. It's some new medical condition, probably overlooked through the course of time until now. All those people who would scream when they banged their toe, and you would roll your eyes and tell them that it didn't hurt that much. They felt much more pain than you.

I could have been an athlete. With my body size, I could have easily won the junior high city wrestling tournament. I could have been the best fullback for the football team. I could have been the clean up batter for my school's baseball team. But I was hidden from physical activity. My parents suggested I stay away from sports, because of my low pain threshold. I would just fail, they told me, because I couldn't take the physical punishment of training or the chance of injury. Because of that, I always failed in gym class. I am no sports hero.

But soon I found out where I could be a hero. And I wouldn't risk putting my body in excruciating pain. Heroes are always at your disposal in videogames. No matter how incapable I am in the real world, in the videogame world, I am the hero. I fight monsters, slay dragons, and save princesses. I save universes from certain doom, and protect the weak. With videogames, I can be a hero!

I stand up, wondering where he is. I call out his name once, but no one answers. Shuuya is gone. He and Noriko have already run far away from me. A part of me feels almost sorry, wishing that I had someone other than myself to be with. But that thought is instantly brushed away as a feeling of power fills my body.

I'm bleeding from my shoulder. When Shuuya threw that arrow at me, it penetrated my arm. And it was the surprise of this act, not the hurt from my injury, that tossed me off balance and over the edge of the roof. I stare up from the platform where I had stood, and shock lowers my jaw. There's no way I fell from up there! The pain I would have felt would have knocked me out for a couple hours. Instead, it feels like almost no time has passed at all.

I rotate my shoulder, and small sting I feel is the only source of pain in my body. I'm not exactly sure when it happened, but for some reason, my medical condition is now gone. I shake my head, telling myself that it's not possible. I reach over with my good hand and tightly pinch my thigh. Such an act used to send me into hysterics, the pain coursing through my body until I curled into a little ball and cried the pain away.

But the sting remains in my thigh. And when I release my pinch, the pain subsides almost immediately.

"I'm…cured?" I manage to whisper. I nearly fall over from the rush inside my head. There is no way that's possible. And yet, here I stand. Having fallen from a roof. Having been stabbed in the shoulder. And the pain is minimal. When did this happen?

And then I know. My ailments left me when I became the hero. When I curled into a little ball out in the forest, trying to stop myself from crying. When I opened my bag and saw the crossbow and dozens of wooden arrows placed neatly inside. When I realized that they'd all try to murder me first. Doofus - the easy kill. That was when I picked up the crossbow. I wiped the tears from my eyes and stood tall and marched back towards the school. I became a hero.

And because of that, I can withstand pain. I'm not at a disadvantage anymore. If my classmates think I'm just going to roll over and die for them, then they're in for a big surprise. My large body won't inhibit me anymore. I can overpower them, can beat them down if I need to. And if not, then I can use my crossbow to take them down from afar. Just like Mayumi.

Her body is not too far from me, and I can make out the look of surprise on her face. I almost didn't kill her. If she had escaped, it wouldn't have been too bad. She would have told all her friends that I'd tried to kill her. Slowly it would be spread around – I was looking to win. Some would try to take me down. But most would avoid me, killing each other off instead. No, it wasn't necessary to kill Mayumi right away, but I'd done it, and I couldn't take that back. Eventually, she would die in The Program anyways. I am going to win, which means that everyone else, in the next three days, will die.

The wind sweeps by me momentarily, and I realize that I'm still standing in front of the school, with no cover. I'm a sitting duck. I don't know when the next student is due out, but more than anything, I need my weapon and I need to get out of the open.

"My crossbow…" I mutter to myself, and begin to search the ground for the weapon. It's only a few moments later that I feel something gently touch the side of my head. My stomach drops. A sharp point rests against my temple.

"Shuuya?" I mutter. I know that Shuuya hasn't returned. More than anything, the name is a prayer. A silent prayer that whoever is holding my crossbow at my temple doesn't decide to pull the trigger. The hero can't die this early in the game. It's impossible to play the game without a hero – who else will conquer evil?

I hear the sound first. The slightly familiar sound of the spring in the crossbow releasing the pressure built up inside it. I feel a great amount of pressure inside my head, and the pain returns with a vengeance. It fills my entire body, burning the tips of fingers, forcing the air from my lungs, causing my head to spin. Strange as it seems, I can feel the arrow on either side of my head, and if the pain wasn't completely overbearing me, my mind would be drifting to those joke props, where it looks like an arrow is going through my skull, when instead it has looped around my head. I wonder who will see my body laying face down and think of that prop.

"Akamatsu, that retard." They will say with a smirk, "I knew he wouldn't last long. And here he is, looking more stupid than ever. He can't even die with dignity. Doofus."

My body is numb now from all the pain. It's a small relief in the fading darkness. One of eyes is hanging from the socket, but the other is conveniently staring at Mayumi, an arrow pointing out of her temple. Is this what she felt when she died? No, I always felt more pain than everyone else. No one suffers the way I do.

But now it is the rest of you who will suffer. Who will save you now that the hero is dead?


	5. Girl Number 3: Megumi Etou

I can't see her face anymore. Sure, Mitsuko is still kneeling in front of me, but I don't recognize her anymore. I see my sister instead. And it's the most relief I've felt since I woke up in that classroom.

I drop the small knife from my hand, and it clatters almost noiselessly to the hardwood floor. That same hand stings a little from when I crushed my new cell phone minutes earlier. If it hadn't been for that cell phone, Mitsuko probably wouldn't have found me hiding beneath the table. I know now, it is not a problem that she found me.

I can still see my sister's face on Mitsuko's body, and for the first time in hours, I smile. I could never send my sister away into this game alone. Sure, we've had our arguments, but what siblings haven't? And it's funny, it always seems like we grow much closer as sisters when those fights are resolved. I've grown to know her almost as well as I know myself. And I know that my sister would never hurt me intentionally. She would never betray me. Well…there was that one time…

I tell myself not to think about that, and instead reach out to the girl in front of me. Her face has returned to that of Mitsuko, and she recoils from my open hand like she's afraid of what it might conceal. I place my hand on the side of her face and cup it gently. Her breath draws in quickly, and then she exhales slowly, closing her eyes slightly. I can almost feel the fear melt off her body. I can see it clearly now – we're both people. The Program is scary to both of us. But we don't have to be scared alone. We can hide together. Me and my sister…I mean, Mitsuko.

"We can watch out for each other." I say with a smile. She smiles back, the tears streaming down her face. And suddenly she lurches forward, wrapping me in a tight hug. Her bosom pushes against me, and I find the sensation comforting, like hugging my mother. I wrap my arms around her as well, feeling the warmth radiate from her body. Her dark hair smells…like my sister's. They must use the same shampoo or something. Both of them, so similar.

"I thought…I thought you were coming to kill me." I whisper to Mitsuko. She only tugs me closer to her, and I release a sigh of relief. I want to ask her what we're going to do. Even if we're not playing, there will be some who will. What will we do when they come after us? Should we look for more people to join us? For the moment, I let all these questions slide. I hold onto her, allowing myself to relish in the comfort we're creating for each other. I can trust my sister.

But she did betray me once. I don't want to think about that time because it is the only fight that we didn't settle. Usually, our arguments amount to nothing. But that time… It started with the rumors. I always heard rumors about my older sister. She was the slut of her class, or so they said. She was a rite of passage for the males, and it was said that only two or three boys remained in her class who hadn't slept with her yet. I heard these comments all the time, and a few times, older boys would hit on me, expecting me to be like my sister. But almost all those rumors were lies. Just because she developed early…

That's why I didn't believe the rumor when I heard it. There was no way that my sister had hooked up with my boyfriend. After all, we'd been dating for almost five months. But when he spoke to me, he told me the truth. He'd used me to get to my sister. And now that he'd passed his rite of passage, he was done with the both of us. I ran home crying that day. But things became worse when I got home.

At first, I just sat and cried in my room for hours. But when my sister got home, I felt the fury rise inside me. I confronted her, and she told me that it was true. She'd had sex with my boyfriend. She tried to explain that he had come to her, telling her that he and I had broken up. But that wasn't enough of an excuse for me. We fought, and soon, our words turned to pushes. Pushes to punches. And we fought. Pulling hair. Scratching with our nails. Swearing. Screaming. Kicking. Wrestling. And soon, we stopped. We didn't say a word to each other as we both limped off to our rooms, to tend to our wounds and cry in solitude.

My sister and I never talked about that fight. We never apologized, never addressed it again. I think both of us are too ashamed to bring it up again. I don't think either of us could believe how far we took our disagreement. A few days later, we were on speaking terms. And not long after that, we were back to normal. But that fight can never be undone, no matter how much I wish it.

I shake that thought away. My sister won't betray me. Not again. The stakes are too high. For now, it's just me and her against The Program. Maybe we'll leave this house when the sun comes up. Things don't seem as scary in the daytime. But for now, we can take turns getting some rest. I was too scared to sleep before, but I already begin to feel a little drowsy.

"Surprise." Mitsuko whispers in a sweet voice. I can only feel one of her hands on my back, and her fingers dig into my skin, holding me in place. It's then that the searing pain begins. It starts out like a soft itch on the side of my neck, but it quickly inflames into a burn. I inhale, and I'm filled with the scent of Mitsuko's hair. I want to push her away, but her arm keeps me at her side. My own fingers bury into her back, but she doesn't seem to notice. The flames slowly spread across the back of my neck. A sickening sound reaches my ears, like deli meat being sliced. I open my mouth to scream, but I can't make a sound.

Mitsuko removes the hand scythe from my throat, and slides my body to the floor, careful not to get any of my sticky blood on her clothes. I'm already laying a puddle of my own blood. I glance up at her, and see my sister staring down at me. She sneers and waves the scythe in the air. She betrayed me. Stabbed me in the back.

But why? We're sisters…sisters…


	6. Boy Number 9: Hiroshi Kuronaga

Izumi is still struggling. Her body hangs over my shoulder and her legs continue to flail behind me as we make our way through the forest. I remember thinking that my designated weapon, the duct tape, was completely useless, but once wrapped around Izumi's wrists and over her mouth, it has redeemed itself in worth. She has stopped screaming. Screams that could invite the wrong kind of attention – the well equipped would-be hero looking to save the damsel from her captors. Or worse, the psycho looking to get as many kills as possible.

Ryuhei leads us through the foliage. In one hand, he holds his weapon, a switchblade, at the ready. In the other, he holds the compass, which helps him find the way south. It was Boss Kazuo's idea to meet at the southernmost base of the island we're on. The sooner our gang can all be together, the better. We always function the best as a unit, with Kazuo pointing us in the right direction. I can already picture Boss waiting for us, a plan already formed inside his mind. For the rest of us, thinking is not where our responsibilities lie.

I realize how lucky I was to run across Ryuhei so early in the game. Walking through this dark forest by myself would be terrifying. The soft breeze rustling the leaves. The shifting shadows. The knowledge that death could be waiting for you only a couple feet away. The company makes the fear retreat. Besides, without Ryuhei's help, we wouldn't have been able to capture Izumi. She didn't stand a chance threat wise, her weapon being extra rations of food and water. But I wouldn't have had the chance to tie her up with my duct tape if Ryuhei hadn't held her down. Teamwork is where we thrive.

That's probably why the gang developed in the first place. What were we before the gang? A quiet rich kid. A feminine Napoleon complex. A dumb piece of white trash. A faggot. And me, the fat ass. But together, under Kazuo's guidance, we're respected. We're tough. Strong. We have power. And for some reason, girls think power is sexy. I've gotten more ass than I ever expected a pig faced bastard like me to get. Sometimes they went willing, and sometimes they were like Izumi.

My shoulder is becoming sore. I shift Izumi a little, but the pain doesn't dissipate. I call up to Ryuhei, asking him how much longer it will be until we reach the south of the island. He responds that he doesn't fucking know, but that we'd better be getting pretty goddamn close. Of course, he's putting on the tough guy act. The little fucker's terrified out of his mind, nothing else to do but try to assert some dominance.

Suddenly, we stop. I glance over the top of Ryuhei's blonde head and see that the forest area has stopped. An open area stretches out before us, where the cover of trees is gone. The land is flat, quickly rising up some cliffs a couple hundred yards away. It's dangerous to venture out of the woods into the open view, but I can't see any possible threats. In fact, there is probably still a fourth of our class still in the school. No one should be waiting for us out here.

Ryuhei continues to hesitate, but I push past his feminine figure, walking into the open. Izumi has finally stopped struggling, and I think I can hear her crying. No surprise there – she knows what we're going to do to her. The perfect way to kick off The Program. And after we're done with her, Kazuo will take over, guiding us along whatever plan he's got. A part of me really wants to know what he's got in store for us, but another part of me recognizes better than hope to enter Kazuo's mind. I can't even imagine what happens there.

Ryuhei finally catches up to us, and before he can complain, I ask him if we're still going south. He nods with a scowl. I glance up the cliffs, looking for any sign of movement. Any sign of Kazuo. But Ryuhei deftly points off to the side, where the ocean crashes on some large boulders at the water's edge. I can see him sitting there, like a statue. For a second, my blood runs cold, but I shake it away, half jogging over to my leader. Ryuhei follows close behind, the moonlight glinting off his switchblade.

"Hey Boss." I wheeze when we're finally close enough. I place Izumi on the ground, and flex my shoulder from the aches nestled deep inside my muscles. I start to breathe a little easier, already feeling his guidance empower me. I glance up and am shocked at what I see in Kazuo's hand. It's a rapid fire, a submachine gun. I'm about to congratulate him on his good luck, when I notice that he's staring intensely at Izumi. I stare down at her and then back up at Kazuo, starting to feel slightly uneasy.

"I thought we'd start things with a little party." I say, taking a deep breath. I glance over at Ryuhei whose eyes were focused solely on Kazuo's gun. I don't like the way he's looking at it. I can see the anxiety his eyes are concealing. He wishes he was holding the gun. Obviously, so would I, but at least it's in our possession, and not in someone else's. It will protect us well in Kazuo's hands, I'm sure.

"Ryuhei," I say, pulling the boy's attention over to me, "Why don't you cut the tape around her wrists." Ryuhei looks over at me with a confused glance and so I continue, "It'll be easier to hold her down."

Izumi starts to squirm again, and Ryuhei saunters over to her, getting ready to hold her down, the switchblade in his hand. I walk over and hold her legs down so Ryuhei doesn't have to worry about the girl placing a kick to his face and escaping.

"Hiroshi." Kazuo speaks my name, and again, my blood runs cold for a moment, "Do you have a coin?" I frown in confusion and look over at Ryuhei. He shrugs but says that he's got Izumi. I stand up and Izumi begins to struggle again, but Ryuhei places his switchblade at her throat and she stops immediately.

"A coin?" I stand before Kazuo, fishing inside my pockets. "Oh, I get it. You want to see who gets to go first?" And I motion toward Izumi. Kazuo doesn't react in the slightest, per usual. I find a coin and I hold it in my hand.

"How about, heads you get to go first Boss, tails I go first." I hold the coin up for him to see it. "Sound okay to you?"

I expect Ryuhei to chime in with a complaint, no doubt wanting a chance to penetrate Izumi first. But he remains surprisingly quiet. Kazuo looks at me and then over to Ryuhei and Izumi before nodding very slightly.

I toss the coin high in the air.

It spins, the moonlight shimmering as both sides flounder in the air. I catch the coin in my palm and slap it on the top of my other hand. I take a deep breath and glimpse at it.

It's heads.

I grit my teeth slightly. Honestly, I don't like to be anyone's sloppy seconds. Knowing that someone else has already been inside a girl with barely any time for her to clean herself…If no one else cares about that, why shouldn't I get to go first? Boss Kazuo never cares about anything, and for the first time since I can remember, Ryuhei isn't complaining about order. Mitsuru isn't here yet and neither is Tsukioka, not like he'd partake anyways.

What's it going to change?

"So, what is it?" Kazuo asks, jumping down to stand before me. I hesitate for a moment.

"Tails." I say.

Kazuo shoves his gun in my face. I only have time to step back and gasp before the bullets rip through the layer of fat on my cheeks and into my skull. The coin drops from my grasp and lands on the sand at my feet. Tails facing the moonlit sky.


	7. Boy Number 10: Ryuhei Sasagawa

I'm tired of being the gang's bitch. I know what they all think of me. I'm just scrawny little Ryuhei. The rest of them complain that I don't pull my weight in fights. If we're going to bring weight into the argument, then Hiroshi alone should be able to take out 35 guys without a problem. I've gone to the gym, and I've practiced some basic fighting techniques – it's not my fault if muscles just don't seem to develop. I'm not as strong as Mitsuru, or as big as Hiroshi, or as instinctual as Kazuo, but I'm a decent fighter, and I'm tired of getting shit from the rest of them.

I know what they think. They think I'm too cocky for my own good. They think that I talk too much with nothing to back it up. Well, I have plenty of back up. A guy's gotta make a living somehow, and my dad's always got extra drugs lying around the house. Sell a little crystal meth here, some pot there, and soon enough, I have regulars. Guys who keep coming back for my dad's extras that he never knows are gone. Guys who would do me favors. Any favor I asked. Anything…

So who has the power now? It's not always the best fighter that emerges as the victor. No, sometimes, it's the one with the best backup. Me? I got the greatest Yakuza assassins in our city pulling strings behind the scenes for me. Don't pull my weight in fights? Even the very lowest Yakuza ranks know my face, and they don't dare come after me in a fight. Why do three guys gang up on Mitsuru and Kazuo, while one comes after me? Because they know better. They know that their bosses will be super pissed if the supply guy is too damaged to deliver their fix.

I was on the verge of joining my Yakuza friends officially, and allowing my so-called friends to get beaten within an inch of their lives – just so they understood what scrawny little Ryuhei had become. I didn't really count on The Program. I guess no one ever does. But as bad as it may have seemed, I understood the possibility this gave me. I could do away with them here on the battle field. I could betray them here, where it would be so natural to do so. And when I emerged as the winner, my Yakuza connections would be nothing to the people I would meet: the higher ups in the government – all people who had needs to fill, desires to control. I would make my connections there, and those rich bastards would pay 100 times what I get from the Yakuza.

Easy street lay directly ahead of me. All that remained was getting the gun from Kazuo. When I first saw it, I couldn't tear my eyes away. It was almost too good to be true. Such a powerful weapon already within my grasp? I figured I'd have to work with the gang for a little while, until we came across some powerful weaponry that would ensure me the win. But there it was – already in Kazuo's hands.

I carefully cut the tape binding Izumi's hands while Hiroshi and Kazuo flipped the coin for order. Normally, I'd have complained about not being considered to go first, but this time, I didn't care. Kazuo won't be able to hold the gun while he was raping Izumi. He'll need someone to hold it. Who better than scrawny little Ryuhei, the boy who appeared too scared to stand up straight? None of them knew the power I held.

Hiroshi expected Kazuo to save us. Save us? Sure, the guy is a fucking genius and always one step ahead of us, but how can he get us out of here? Deactivate the collars, avoid the government surveillance they have everywhere, get us off the island, and then what? Assuming Kazuo is smart enough to do all that, it's not like we can just return to our lives. The government knows who we are, where we're form. There's no escape from The Program, and I think Kazuo knows that.

A single command from Kazuo and Mitsuru would kill me and Hiroshi and Sho in an instant. Hell, Mitsuru would kill himself if Kazuo told him to. That leaves Kazuo as the winner, and that's what will happen. Well, I'm not going to wait around for it. 

My hands tighten around Izumi's wrists. Even she has her reason for being here. She's going to disarm Kazuo, giving me the opportunity to grab the gun. Grab it and use it, slowly taking down the rest of my class until it's only me.

Gunshots explode in my ears. My heads snaps up, staring at the scene between strands of my long blond hair. My mouth opens wide as bullets explode out the back of Hiroshi's pig head. I let go of Izumi without thinking, as Kazuo turns his dead eyes toward me.

"No!" I cry out. He stole my idea! But that's not fair - I never get credit for my ideas. Kazuo spins the gun at me and Izumi, and I can hear her scream as a few stray bullets hit her. I jump up and away, and Kazuo follows me with the machine gun. I fall to the ground and feels tiny sores explode onto my chest. I can already feel my blood pouring out of the many small holes, when a clicking sound fills the air. I glance up to see Kazuo staring at the gun in his hands. He's run out of ammo.

I'm up in an instant, the fury sweeping through my body. I'm the one with the power - I'm not going to let Kazuo take it from me! He acted first, but that gun will be mine. The victory will be mine! Kazuo instantly begins to reload his weapon as I charge him. He glances up at me as I close the distance between us. He deftly steps to the side and lands a quick blow to the back of my neck as I lurch at him. I stumble forward, smacking directly into the giant rock on which Kazuo had been sitting.

My head spins, as a sound registers inside my brain. Kazuo has reloaded the gun. The bullets race into my back, and I open my mouth, allowing a scream to echo a little ways before the crashing ocean drowns me out. I grip the stone in front of me tightly, as if it would stop the bullets from puncturing my body, but there I remain - stuck between a rock and a hard place.

I hug the giant stone close, trying to draw some form of power and stability from it, but the futility sinks in. I know what has happened. Kazuo betrayed me before I could betray him. The Boss was one step ahead of me, one step ahead of all of us, once again. Slowly, the pain subsides. Then the sadness and guilt that I feel diminishes. Everything leaves me, as I float away into darkness - powerless.


	8. Girl Number 5: Izumi Kanai

I've already been shot. I can feel the metal bullets inside my skin, and I can feel the blood slowly dripping down from the puncture wounds on my thigh and stomach. For some reason, my thoughts drift to canvas. The brush is in my hand, as I slather deep crimson onto the dark background. The clash between the foreground and background is useful, drawing the audience's eyes immediately to the deep red. My blood against the dark scene behind me.

I gasp in pain as I struggle to stand, struggle to run away. But my legs refuse to work. I can't move. It's not the hurt that's keeping me in place. It's fear. I'm in the presence of a murderer. A boy has just killed two others. Two other boys who were his friends. If Kazuo can kill his friends without a second thought, then I'm as good as dead.

I can see him. His back is facing me, but he doesn't seem to fade into the darkness around him. No, instead the oblivion seems to radiate from him, like the god of darkness. He slowly lowers his gun, and for a moment, I wonder if he's forgotten I'm here. But Kazuo spins around, his eyes suddenly falling on my figure. I whimper and try to slide away from him, but I get no where. Kazuo does not advance on me, he simply stares, like he's observing me.

I can't stare at his eyes. In the past, they were the only thing that truly mystified me. Time after time, I would find myself staring at him, watching the dark orbs that were his eyes. I'd sketch his face, over and over, trying to capture the essence of his gaze. But no amount of art training could help me. His eyes are dark swampy water, pools of grey murk. They hold no life, no light. It's as if the sun's rays flow directly inside his optics and are lost there, trapped, absorbed. Drawn in like black holes – not even light can escape.

I think, at some point, I wanted to know why his eyes were like that. I wouldn't call it an infatuation – more like curiosity. People's eyes don't transform into black holes for no reason. They are forced into that condition. But my curiosity didn't go any further than that. I had heard what Kazuo did when he wasn't in school. He was the leader of his gang, the most dangerous boys in our class. I didn't want to get any nearer Mitsuru or Ryuhei or Hiroshi. Those boys truly scared me. Besides, I couldn't associate myself with gangs – what would my father say?

I'm not intrigued by his eyes anymore. They terrify me. I can feel their pull, the black holes trying to devour me. The fear screams inside my head as the god of darkness aims the gun and my body. He pulls the trigger and five bullets rush from the gun before a loud clacking noise fills the air. I can't feel any new pain, but I know I've been shot some more. The air rushes from my body as Kazuo stares down at his gun, walks over to his duffel bag, and pulls out some more ammunition.

The full moon reflects off the metal in his hand. For a moment, I wonder how I would paint this scene. The large moon would be low in the sky, directly over Kazuo's head, the reflection off his gun a painful white. I would be in the foreground, the light illuminating the bullet holes in my body, the crimson red of my blood for all to see. But Kazuo's body would be shrouded in darkness. Swirls of blue and purple emitting from his body, swirling around him. And his eyes would be blacker than the night sky. The black holes from which nothing escapes.

I shake my head, feeling woozy. Why am I thinking like this? I can't keep laying here. He's going to kill me! I struggle to stand, and this time, my legs respond. I feel some new pain, but I push it away. I place one leg beneath my body and attempt to stand, when my knee gives out, and I plummet to the ground once again. Dirt and filthy water enter my mouth, and I spit them both out with a cry.

I glance up and see that Kazuo has been watching me. His gun is already reloaded, but he hasn't pulled the trigger, or even aimed the gun at me. He's been watching me, observing how I move. I grit my teeth, placing both feet beneath my torso and crawl into a sitting position. I strain myself, finally pulling my body upright. I'm hunched over, the tiny aches in my body seeming to recede. I stand with dignity, staring into the emptiness before me. I refuse the black holes, defy them. I stand in opposition to them, to the god of darkness who holds them. 

But it's not enough for me. I want to know. I want to know why Kazuo's murky orbs exist. I want to know what happened to him. I want to know why he's playing. I want to know what's happening inside his brain. I want to know…why I'm going to die.

I breathe heavily, only managing one word.

"Why?" I gasp.

Kazuo stares back at me, the moonlight shining brightly off his machine gun.

"Why not?" he replies, the gunshots almost drowning out his answer.

No light can escape the black holes. I succumb to them.


	9. Boy Number 17: Mitsuru Numai

It's strange, the coldness I feel. I can feel my heart racing from the sprint to this location. A warm breeze floats by me as I stumbled backwards. I should be warm, but I'm freezing. I know what it's from.

Icicles are puncturing my body. They should be bullets, but I can feel the chill as they penetrate my body. The ice pierces my arms, my legs, my torso, my face, letting my blood run free until it freezes. The semiautomatic gun slips from my hands as I begin to fall. My mouth is open in a scream, but it's frozen inside me, just like the rest of my body.

When people will find me later, they'll see what's left of my face, how my mouth is open in surprise. But that will be wrong. I'm no where near surprised that Kazuo has betrayed me. In fact, I knew this was going to happen the second I stepped in Hiroshi's blood. How could I not? I saw the gun, and I saw the dead bodies of my friends surrounding Kazuo. I'm not the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree, but I understand easily enough that guns kill people.

So why didn't I run away? It was so obvious. Kazuo had killed Hiroshi and Ryuhei and Izumi. He'd killed them all, and there I was, walking up to him like I wanted to be next. I know now, why I didn't run away. Why I stayed by his side even knowing that he'd murdered the rest of our friends. A part of me never believed he'd ever turn that gun on ME.

Is that such a strange thought? Not to me. I was his first follower, and as far as I knew, his first friend. That time, those three upper classmen, Kazuo saved me from them. Sure, he acted like it didn't mean much, but ever since then, I always felt like he was looking out for me. Like that time he asked his father to pull some strings and I was released from the burglary charge. I don't think Kazuo would have done that for just anyone. I thought I was special to him, like he was special to me.

Yeah, I'll admit that now. Kazuo is special to me. He is everything I wanted to be. No one tells Kazuo what to do, how to act. He's his own person, with the hardness to back him up. I've seen what he can do – violin, painting, anything he wants. He's perfect. He succeeds at everything I want to, and much more. I've tried to model myself after him, so far that I've even tried studying harder. To know what he knows. My grades went up from D's to C's, not that I really cared. I was no where near his level, but the new knowledge made me feel like I was chasing after him, like I was getting closer to his brilliance.

Even now, as I fall away from him, back to my level down in the depths of uselessness and failure, I see him high above me. The gun continues to fire the icicles into my body, but I'm too cold now to feel them now. His figure seems to shimmer against the night sky, his perfection radiating away from his body.

What little breath I have left is caught in my throat. Tears flow my eyes as I take in his visage. He looks…beautiful. The warm breeze blows by both of us again, scattering his long hair along with it. Waves crash, their spray sparkling from the moonlight, or maybe it's from the light emitting from Kazuo's body. The light shines through the water, and just for a moment, I can see a rainbow in the night sky. A lunar rainbow.

It all makes sense to me now. From the moment I saw him sitting on that rock, I knew Kazuo would kill me. I knew it and accepted it. I accepted it because Kazuo is my hero. He's everything I want to be and much, much more. In order for me to live, Kazuo would have to die. With Kazuo dead, I'd have no one to live up to. I'd just sink back down to my scum level, like I was before I met him. I can't kill him. And I can't stand by while he dies. I was dead the moment The Program chose me.

And why is that?

I finally hit the wet ground, my gun clattering off to the side, the numbness completely overwhelming me.

It's because…

The water splashes up around me, and I see the rainbow again, forming a halo around his head.

…I love Kazuo Kiriyama.


	10. Boy Number 21: Kazuhiko Yamamoto

The lights twinkle on the far off shore. I can't stop staring at them. They remind me of home, sitting in front of the television or the computer. The comfort is too much to allow it to slip away. My arm drapes around Sakura's shoulders as our feet dangle over the edge of the cliff. The sound of crashing waves ring out far away, but the drop down to the water doesn't look so distant from here. Maybe it's just the darkness of the night that's playing tricks on my eyes. A cold rush of ocean air bursts up from the edge of the cliff, tousling Sakura's short hair. 

I swing my feet slightly because the only sensation I can feel in them is a soft tingling. My foot strikes the side of the cliff and I don't feel anything except a rise in the prickliness. My feet have already fallen asleep. If Sakura and I need to run away from here, I'm not going to be able to do it.

Sakura's not crying right now. I think she's trying to be strong for me. I appreciate it. I've only had to calm her down a couple of times since the classroom. The first was when I finally stumbled out into this clearing and saw her already sitting here. The moonlit sky showered light down on her huddled figure, and she whimpered when I emerged from the darkness. But when she recognized me, Sakura cried, and didn't stop for a while.

Sakura starts talking about our second date, and she produces the bag I bought for her. The one it took all day to pick out. Honestly, I didn't really mind. I planned to spend the whole day with Sakura anyways. I just didn't expect to spend it shopping. And when she finally broke down at the end of the day, I told her a little lie, just so that she wouldn't feel so bad. No, it hadn't taken all morning to pick out my shirt, but it was enough to soothe her down.

Maybe that's why I don't mind her episodes so much. They're almost all easily solved and forgotten as quickly as they arise. Some would think that her unpredictable bouts with sadness would be too much to deal with. But they don't seem to faze me. Sakura is my temperamental beauty, my bipolar cutie. And I stick with her, because when I wake up in the morning, her face is what makes me smile. And when I go to bed at night, her voice lulls me to sleep. She always occupies my thoughts, and so I stay by her side.

Sakura is still speaking, but I can't allow myself to completely pay attention. I'm still listening to her, but I'm also listening to the area around us – making sure we're completely alone. I'm glad I was able to pass her the note to meet me at this location, but now that we're both sitting here, I don't know what we're going to do next. I've tossed away my gun - the only true protection we have. My first thought was simply making sure that I saw Sakura again. I don't think I could deal with it if someone got to her before I did. The someone who took out Akamatsu and Tendo, maybe. Sakura hasn't said anything about them, so I think that their bodies weren't there when she was released.

I was the last boy released from the class. The time spent in that classroom seemed to drag on so slowly. The names read off, one by one. And before I knew it, it was just me and Yoshimi, the last two people in the room. A part of me wondered what I would see when I finally made it outside. I wasn't ready for the corpses. I don't think any of us are. I know that Yoshimi isn't - I heard her scream as I ran away.

Sakura has already mentioned her brother, and it might seem strange to some that I'm thinking about him at the moment. But if there's one thing The Program forces you to do, it's look at the past. And so I remember Sakura's brother – the man who brought me and Sakura together.

Sakura doesn't know that I used to handicap contestants for The Program too. My father, a bookie, told me that the best way to break into the business was to start with the government's cash cow – The Program. He had me meet a friend of his, one of the best in the business – Sakura's brother. I learned plenty from him, and I became a good judge of character. But it wasn't until I saw him with Sakura that I truly became aware of her presence. She wasn't in my class at the time, but I'd seen her around. I talked with her brother and asked if he'd introduce me. My mentor replied that he would never let his sister get involved with someone in his business, and that if I wanted to see her, that I would have to give up handicapping. I don't regret my decision for a minute.

My skill has stayed with me, even though I never use it. But back in that classroom, when eyes frantically darted around the room, I made sure I examined everyone. And I found it easy to pick out the major players. Kazuo displayed no emotion whatsoever – he's dangerous. Niida looked about ready to jump for joy, and I wasn't fooled by Mitsuko's performance. I was even surprised to see the slightest hint of excitement in Mayumi's eyes. I could already see who was aiming for the win. I know who not to trust.

Tiny lies. That's all it takes to keep Sakura happy. It's not like I'm keeping her ignorant. But what purpose will it serve if she knows the dangerous players out there? Or if she knew I was connected to her brother? Or if she found out that it doesn't take me forever to pick out a shirt? All I want is to keep her smiling. My temperamental beauty. She cries enough.

"Special most of all," she says, "Because you were paying attention after all."

I smile, "Yeah. I was."

Sakura snuggles in close. I take deep long breaths. This is why I do it – to keep her happy, to keep her smiling. This is…perfect.

The soft thud of a footstep erupts behind me. Sakura hears it too, because she tries to get in closer. She grasps my arm, looking for some comfort. She whispers something to me, and even though I don't hear it, I know what she says.

I don't know which one of us does it, but slowly we tilt forward. The ocean air rises to greet us, and we greet it back, headfirst. The air whips at my face as I stare at the surface ahead of us. It doesn't seem to be getting any closer. The drop didn't seem so far away from the top of the cliff, but it takes an eternity to fall. 

I place my hand on top of Sakura's head, to brace her for impact. I can feel her trying to press further to me, and I hear her gasp as the water rushes to meet us.

My bipolar cutie.

"I love you, Saku-"

We hit the water.


	11. Girl Number 4: Sakura Ogawai

It's like a muffled explosion in my ears. I can feel my heartbeat inside my temples, and a hard force knocks the air from my lungs. My two hands are full – one holding my prized purse that Kazuhiko bought me, the other clasping Kaz's hand. 

For a minute, I'm floating. And in that instant, I feel some small relief. I sense the water all around me, gently swirling around my figure as I'm suspended there. It's too dark to see very far, and that unsettles me. But for the moment, I'm okay. I am always the most comfortable in the water.

I'm a swimmer. My mother used to call me "Dolphin" which shorted to "Dolly" eventually. And it's no wonder why the name originated. I was always in the water. I loved to take baths as a child, when my mom would have to pull me kicking and screaming from the tub when it was over. When we'd go to the beach, I'd run into the ocean and stay there until it was time to leave, and I'd emerge with pruned fingers and seaweed wrapped around my body. I took swimming lessons in the public pool, and I'd go there on weekends to swim extra. It's even the reason I keep my hair short, so that the long strands didn't wrap around my face in the water. But more than anything, I just love the feeling of being surrounded by water, the sensation of weightlessness, of tranquility.

I'm pleased to have these comforting feelings again, but I'm not sure why. I guess when you fall from a cliff, you don't expect to be alive after you land. That defeats the purpose, doesn't it? I think back to the split second fall, and I remember, feeling a pressure on top of my head. That's right, I remember now - Kazuhiko shielded me from the impact.

My eyes trace the blurry image of my arm, to my hand clasping his. I see his body, slowly sinking next to me. I squint to see in the dark water, and I finally make out his face. What I remember of Kaz's gentle smile is gone. His head is sideways; his jaw is broken. I gasp underwater and water rushes into my body. I cough and sputter beneath the surface. I kick my legs hard and suddenly I feel the air rushing into my lungs. I cough and vomit the ocean water out of my system.

I feel a tug on both my arms, and kick harder to keep my face above the water. Kazuhiko is already dead, and his corpse wants to sink to the bottom of the sea. In my other hand, the purse has filled with water. Its dead weight is not helping me stay afloat. I don't want to let go of either the purse or Kazuhiko.

I tread water, feeling my eyes well up with tears. I can already feel the muscles in my legs getting tired, and without the use of my arms, I won't be able to stay above water for much longer. I glance off to the side and through my tears I can see the glimmer of the far off shore. My head sinks beneath the surface for a moment and I scream in panic, pushing my face back up with furious kicks, the sea water mixing with my salty tears.

The other shore doesn't seem too far off from here. It wouldn't take very much energy to try and swim there. Or even swim along the edge of the island, looking for a place to stand on dry land. But I couldn't do it without my arms. If I want to stay afloat, I'm going to have to let go of Kazuhiko and the gift he gave me. A dolphin can't swim without her fins.

My tears have blinded me completely, but the image of the lights flash in my mind. With a sob of defeat, I let the sight slip away. I can't swim off the island. A patrol boat would easily find me and shoot me down. And then there's the fact that if I try to leave, my collar explodes.

I shudder with the realization that a bomb hangs around my neck, and my head sinks below the surface again. I cry out and kick desperately until my head breaks the surface again. I can't keep doing this. My legs muscles ache with overuse. My arms become numb with constant pull downwards into the water.

Why can't I let Kazuhiko go?

I release a painful sob and my head drops below the water. My hand tightens around Kaz's hand. How could I continue living without Kazuhiko? Even if I did make it off the island, how could I justify my life? Kaz and I planned to go out together, because neither wanted to be in a world without the other. That's still true for me. I don't want to keep going without Kazuhiko. Life is too scary, too exhaustive for me, knowing that his memory will keep trying to pull me down. That's not how I want to remember Kaz.

I let them both bring me down. The purse and Kazuhiko, they both help me sink further and further down into the ocean. The bubbles explode from my mouth as I attempt to draw in air. I can feel the weight of the sea water filling my lungs. It hurts, but at the same time I feel…relaxed, tranquil. The same way I've always felt in the water.

I close my eyes, letting myself drift, being pulled closer and closer to Kazuhiko.

Even dolphins need air to survive.


	12. Boy Number 3: Tatsumichi Ooki

"So very glad your puny army knife is no match for my machete." Shuuya's smile disappears in an instant. It's obvious that he has no idea how to respond. Noriko gulps noticeably and takes a terrified step backwards. Shuuya grips the knife tightly in his hand as my eyes travel back and forth between them. He's clearly the bigger threat by far, so I focus all my attention on Shuuya.

"So very, very glad…" I hiss menacingly. My voice surprises me. I had no idea it could sound like that. It sounds raspy and throaty, but my words aren't slurred together. Every syllable, sounding so distinct. If I was tired, then I would have mumbled my words together or been swaying from fatigue. But, the lack of sleep isn't affecting me at all. I'm at the top of my game.

A part of me is happy that I've run into Noriko so soon. I forget about my plans at ultimate victory as my eyes rest on her figure. Even now, seeing her fragile frame reminds me of my infatuation with her. The fantasies I've dreamt up in my head - Noriko coming to me, shy and submissive, and I, the seasoned muscular pro, take her for a violent ride, making her sweat and cry as she screams for more. Seeing her in such a defensive position, like a cornered animal, nearly gets me an erection. I'll finish Shuuya first, and then come back for her, come back to live out my fantasies. And if she runs away, there are two other girls out there. Yuko…and Yukiko. Such similar names. Such similar bodies. So pure.

There weren't nearly as many innocent girls in my last school. I remember that most of the girls would talk about their experiences and that I was shocked by some of the shit they admitted to doing. Sex in elevators, on beaches, in cars. Discussions about abortions and STD's. Losing their virginity and embarrassing moments in bed. All of them, whores. Mature and tainted. Not a single innocent among them. All of them like my mother.

My mother is a slut too. I can't even remember all the guys she brought home. It's like she was just waiting for my dad to die so that she wouldn't have to hide all her affairs. I remember the look they'd give me too, stumbling through the doorway, their shirts partially over their head, their eyes widening when they notice me watching television. My mother would mention me in passing before glaring at me and saying she didn't want any interruptions for the rest of the night. And then I'd have to turn up the volume to drown out her moans.

Well, I refuse to have any women in my life like my mother. I will never fuck a whore. Why are all the developed girls sluts? Only the fragile, small girls have not been deflowered. My woman will be a virgin, and the only cock to penetrate her will be mine. I will have only the purest females.

I will have Noriko.

But first thing's first.

I rush forward, the machete gripped in both hands. Shuuya pushes Noriko back a couple steps as if to protect her. I'm not sure what the shove has to do with protection, since if I wanted to get at Noriko, it would only have been a few more steps to her. I swing down the machete with as much force as I can muster. Shuuya foolishly thinks that he can parry my attack with the knife in a single hand. The blade is knocked out of his grasp and clatters to the ground. This isn't even going to be a fight.

"I win!" I yell, my voice echoing far into the depths of the forest surrounding us. Shuuya looks up at me as I reach back and then swing down, aiming to remove his head from his shoulders. You thought you were going to take her virginity, right Shuuya? Wrong. Noriko's purity belongs to me, and I won't let you have it. I won't let you taint her. She will be mine, and then we'll see how the rest of The Program plays out.

My face contorts into an expression of shock as Shuuya grits his teeth and narrows his eyes. He ducks just as my machete sails over his head and suddenly he throws his body against me. He swings his arms around my legs in an effort to tackle me to the ground, but I leap backwards away from him.

"Shuuya!" Noriko screams as I feel myself being lifted upwards. No, that's wrong. I'm not moving up, I'm falling down. A cliff? Since when were we near a cliff? I feel some pressure by my hips, and I realize that Shuuya's body is still wrapped around mine, falling with me like an extra body part.

My body jolts as my back cracks against a hard branch. Chills sweep through my body, but I feel no pain. I've never felt something like this before, and the unique sensation creates a sense of panic inside my mind. There's something wrong with my body, but I'm not sure what it is. For all I know, I've just paralyzed myself form the waist down.

Shuuya and I bounce off the limb and he twists in the air releasing his grip on me, and the two of us finish our falls as separate entities. I land on the ground with a resounding thud, the tall grass visible in my periphery vision. For a second, the sun shines directly in my eyes, and I watch as the rays of light suddenly take shape and form.

Noriko slowly floats down to me. Her naked body is shrouded in blinding beams of light as she slowly extends her arms, reaching for me. She smiles warmly, with the slight timidity that I've grown to love. I smile back as the lights grow brighter, and I reach up towards her with a single hand. The light suddenly disappears, and I realize that she was only an illusion. Simply the light playing tricks on me. The sun's rays are only glinting off the machete blade as the weapon bears its way into my face.

The machete cuts me deep, slicing my lips and my eye. I continue to stare up at the light, begging for Noriko to return to me. But the light fades, and I fall into the tainted darkness.


	13. Boy Number 20: Kyoichi Motobuchi

Surprise covers his face from his kneeling position beneath me. My gun is aimed directly at his face, and slowly the surprise slips away from his face. Fear creeps into his eyes along with desperation, and a plea that sounds more like a whimper escapes from his lips. From my position above Shuuya, I feel taller, bigger somehow. This must be how my father feels all the time.

My father is a big man – a giant. He towers at almost seven feet, and his muscular frame makes even the biggest bodyguards look like prepubescent boys. My father is an intimidating figure, so it's no wonder how he rose through the government ranks, easily standing over his competition and casting them into his shadow. Sometimes I wish I had inherited his physique instead of my fragile mother's. But that's not the case. I can remember the many times my father brought up that fact.

"Since you don't have my body genes, Kyoichi," he would tell me time after time, "You can only succeed if you are the smartest. You have your mother's worthless body type, so that brain of yours will be the fucking best. Do you understand?"

I nod a little now as Shuuya quivers at my feet. I do understand. Physical activity was never going to be a part of my life, so it was important to focus on my studies. After all, whenever I failed by getting a B+, my father's beating was always harsh. Everyone knows who my father is, so no one ever asks about the bruises. Besides, there's no better motivation, so says my father.

"Nothing less than a win for the big man, eh?" I mutter aloud, "Class president takes it all, right Shuuya?"

I can show my father that I'm stronger than he gives me credit for. I have my mother's physique, but even she fights back sometimes. Body type doesn't determine everything. My brother is proof enough, since he was lucky enough to be built like our father. That night when he left our family, that night when my father confronted him about rumors he'd heard circulating. And when my brother admitted he was gay, he got the biggest beating I'd ever seen my father give. For a little while, I wondered if my father was going to kill him. But eventually he stopped, and my brother limped away from the house. I haven't seen him since.

My brother's body could do nothing against my father's onslaught. Physique can only go so far. I can show my father that my small frame can win this corporeal game. The Program is as mental as it is physical. I can show my father that I'm stronger than my gay brother ever was, despite my fragile frame.

"No faggots! No faggots for the big man!" I scream, pulling the hammer back on my revolver. The tears stream down Shuuya's face. He's crying because he's about to die. All of your muscles don't matter now, do they Shuuya? In a fair fight, I'd lose before it had even begun. But I was smarter than you, followed your screams and cries, and now you will die. My weak body will not stop me from taking victory, and I'll show everyone that body type doesn't count for anything.

The explosion rips through the open air. It takes a minute to hit me, but when it does, I can't stop myself from screaming in agony. I watch as my arm splits in half at the elbow, and my hand tumbles off to my side. Blood erupts from the stump as I glance off to the side. My father glares back at me from a few feet away.

"Cheater! No fair sneaking up!" I hiss as I forget about my pain, "Cheater!" For a second, it dawns on me that I snuck up on Shuuya, but I push that thought away. What is my father doing here anyways? He wasn't in the classroom with the rest of us – if he had been, he would have stopped this whole thing. He's shorter than I remember too…and did he always have that scar on his forehead?

I bend down and grasp at the gun still clenched in my other hand. I understand what he's doing here. He wants to prove me wrong. Well, I'll show him! I don't need muscle to win The Program, and I'll prove it!

I wrestle the gun out of my own grasp and hold it in the only hand I have left. I race at my father's figure, taking aim as I go. He glares at me once - the same stare he had before he beat my brother into submission. It's enough to make me hesitate, and that's all he needs.

I see the gun jump in his hands and suddenly I'm moving backwards. Fluid is gathering in my mouth as I fall backwards. I'm not dead yet! I can still fight! My body isn't that weak!

All I see is the blue sky above me when I finally find it in me to pull the trigger. But the gun is no longer in my hand. I have just failed the most important test of my life.


	14. Girl Number 6: Yukiko Kitano

Yumiko's body is heavy in my arms. It's not that she's fat or anything – far from it. She's just…big. Then again, maybe she's just big when compared to me. I look like a child standing next to her, and my head only comes up to her chest. Yumiko's always been a lot tougher than me too, so sure of herself. One of the top players on the softball team. So much better at everything than I am.

Sometimes I would wonder why Yumiko is my best friend. At the very beginning of our friendship, I thought that she hung around me because the comparison made her feel better about herself. After all, when your friend is inferior to you in every way, it's a constant self esteem boost. But I know that Yumiko likes me for me. After everything she's ever done for me…

Like that time she saved me from drowning. She dove right into the pool and pulled me to the side, gasping and choking and thrashing. Yumiko pulled up over the side, and leaned me over to spit up the water I'd inhaled. Some people chuckled to themselves at the sight of the girl freaking out in the shallow end of the pool. But Yumiko didn't laugh. She gave me my towel and bought me an ice cream, telling me it was my reward for passing my swimming lesson. I knew then, that Yumiko truly cared about me.

It hurts me more to see that she's in pain than my own. Moving around, I can feel the foreign objects inside my skin. But they're only causing me minor discomfort. It doesn't seem strange to me, the fact that I've been shot. It's almost like I knew this would happen. And maybe, a part of me did. So why did I come here? To die?

No, I wanted to be with Yumiko. I knew that calling for others to join us…I knew that she would die if she did it by herself. And then I'd be alone. So this was…my way of committing suicide? That doesn't sound like it could be too far from the truth. But a part of me…a part of me truly believed that some would show up…that Shuuya would show up.

I wish he would leave my thoughts. The image of him swimming inside my head is enough to make me blush and force my eyes to the ground out of habit. I know it's silly of me to hope for something to ever exist between us, especially with so many other girls trying to get his attention while I blend into the background. But a part of me secretly wished that he watched me like I watched him. Because unlike those other girls, I didn't fall for Shuuya because of his good looks. I've seen the way he acts toward people – I've seen the righteousness in his decisions, and I've heard him speak about the justice within. I love Shuuya because of his spirit, and I always dreamt that he'd see my kind heart and recognize that we were made for each other.

I guess dreams don't always come true. The Program sure seems to be crushing mine, and so is the person who decided Yumiko and I are expendable. But I don't want to see who it is. I don't want to acknowledge them at all. All that matters right now is that I'm with Yumiko, the only true friend I've ever had. And in my kneeling position in the growing puddle of blood, I hold Yumiko close, trying to shield her from the pain. Because for the first time in a very long while, Yumiko is relying on me for support, and I will give it to her.

It's strange that I'm not sad. The smile on my face is coming naturally. I don't have to force myself to keep it there. Yumiko's face swims before my eyes, my vision becoming foggy. Neither of us is going to last much longer, but that doesn't bother me as much as it did when we first entered The Program. The scary part's over. There are no more paranoid thoughts wondering where death will strike from. It has seized us, and Yumiko and I will go into the next world together.

I watch as Yumiko's eyes slowly drift over my left shoulder, and I realize that she's staring at our murderer. I want to tell her to look away, because it reminds me that we aren't alone – it reminds me that we don't have much time left. I cradle Yumiko in my scrawny, blood-soaked arms, doing my best to remember the many good memories we have, but it's too late; I'm too aware of the new presence behind me.

"Shuuya." The noise almost frightens me, because I had no idea that Yumiko was trying to speak. But the name registers inside my head, and the figure is once again in my thoughts. Yumiko is still staring at the person behind me, and for a second, I wonder who is standing here with us. I don't believe that it's Shuuya, but…what if it is? Could I have been completely wrong about him? No, I know that Shuuya believes in justice and doing what's right. But what if The Program has twisted him? What if this horrible game has changed him into…into a killer? I have to know. I need to know if Shuuya is still like I remember him, or if he's…

I begin to turn my head, moving slowly because I almost don't want to know the answer. But before I can see, an explosion erupts inside my head. The noise continues to echo inside my ears, and as it begins to fade, so does my sight. I fall forward, landing on top of Yumiko's body.

Please, Shuuya, don't let this game change you into something ugly. Stay the way I remember you, the way that I loved you. Don't let The Program win. Please…don't…die…


	15. Girl Number 7: Yumiko Kusaka

My eyes widen as Yukiko's forehead explodes. A sound escapes from her mouth, but I don't know if it's a whimper of pain, or a cry of surprise. My guess is that it's neither, but instead some kind of reaction to the bullet racing through her skull. Her fragile body tumbles toward me, and I cringe because I can't bear to look at her like this. If the last thing I see in this world is what remains of my best friend's lifeless face, I will scream myself to death. I just know it.

Yukiko falls toward me, but slowly veers off course, her face landing on the ground directly to my right. I hear a crunch as she impacts and I gag uncontrollably. Even though she's not directly on top of me, Yukiko's got me pinned to the ground. I don't have the energy to push her off of me – my body's not responding to me.

Tears cloud my vision and a figure looms over my body. I turn my face so I don't have to look at him again. When I first saw him, he looked like Shuuya, but there's no way that can be true. There's no way that Shuuya would…he'd never…

I can see the back of Yukiko's head. A gaping hole stares back at me. Soft, spongy material continues to ooze from her wound, and I gag again. This is what she has become. This is what I have done to her. I might as well have been the one who placed the gun to the back of her head and pulled the trigger myself. This isn't what I wanted. I only wanted…

I remember stumbling out of the school in the middle of the night, the overwhelming darkness trying to swallow me. Yukiko was the last person to be released before me. Yoshitoki was supposed to be the boy between us, but since he had been killed, it jumped to me. And as much as I hated to admit it, I felt grateful. I knew that only two minutes had passed since Yukiko had gone, and that left me a small opportunity to find her and stay with her. If Yoshitoki had gone before me, then I may have never found Yukiko.

I remember the way the fear seized me when I noticed some shadows moving off to my side, and the soft whisper of crying. Yukiko was still there in front of the school, like she had known I was the next person to come out. And it was a good thing I was, since she would have been a sitting target for anyone deciding to play. I decided then that I could protect her. I would have to; otherwise, she didn't stand a chance.

A lot of good those thoughts did me. I thought I could protect her, and what did I end up doing? Yukiko is dead because of me. My good intentions aren't going to enter Yukiko's body and restart her heart, and they're not going to restore the brain matter scattered on the ground surrounding us. Yukiko's blood rests on my hands, and no noble plan to gather everyone in the playing field can remove the guilt.

Who am I trying to fool? Me, noble? I knew Yukiko's purpose behind the loudspeaker plan. She loved Shuuya – and she had for as long as I can remember. She wanted to see him again. I didn't tell her that there was someone I wanted to see also. Is that so wrong? Do our ulterior motives nullify our otherwise moral actions? I don't think so. But the fact that they existed – it makes me feel like we tainted our own idea. I wonder, if we had no secrets hidden inside our hearts while we called for everyone (while only had a single person in mind), we would have been shot? It's almost ridiculous to consider, but right now it's the only thing I can think.

Some liquid is gathering at the back of my throat and I cough and sputter until it spouts from my mouth. It's tinted pink, and I try again to move my body, suddenly reminded that I'm dying. Is it right for me to try to escape? I'm the one who brought us up here and let Yukiko die. Should I be allowed to escape with my life? I don't want to answer that question just yet. What I want is the ability to move my arms and legs. I want to stand and face my murderer and stare into the eyes of the one who decided Yukiko and I were expendable.

I stare up at him as he continues to hover over me, and for an instant, I think it's Sugimura. It's the hair that has me fooled. But in that short instant, my heart is broken. The boy I wanted to see…but it's not him. The eyes are all wrong. They're too almond shaped…too empty. Sugimura's eyes seem to shine all the time, even when he's trying to shyly fade into the background.

I think what first attracted me to Sugimura was his size. I'm sure Shuuya would have provided a casual innuendo about that statement, but that's not what I'm talking about. I'm a tall girl, and I have some muscles to my body too. There aren't very many boys, never mind other girls, who are taller than me. But when I stand next to Sugimura, his large muscular frame and tall build make me…well, make me feel like a girl. When I'm talking to him, I don't hunch over because I worry I look too butch. He…makes me feel comfortable inside my own body. But I never got the chance to see him on my own. We made contact when our groups of friends interacted, and that was it. Any attempts I made to talk with him inside the classroom always seemed to be intercepted by Takako.

It was selfish of me to hope to see Sugimura again. That hope dragged me and Yukiko up to this mountaintop and forced us to yell out over a loudspeaker. And our reward for desiring to see our men of infatuation is death. That doesn't sound fair, does it?

I stare into the barrel of the gun positioned directly in front of my face. The opening at the base of the firing weapon almost seems to swell and expand, getting ready to draw me inside and never let me go.

"Shu?" I whimper in defeat. It's not a whisper of confusion. I know that Shuuya is not the one standing over me, preparing to fire a small casing of metal into my head. My murmur is a request. A plea that the real Shuuya had shown up. Because I know that if he had, he would have whisked Yukiko and I away from this dangerous mountain summit, and saved us from our own ulterior motives and selfish desires and our suicidal plan. But he hadn't come. And neither had Sugimura. Maybe it is better that way.

Maybe-

BLAM!


	16. Boy Number 8: Yoji Kuramoto

With a sigh of disgust, I toss the handgun away from the two of us. I don't want to hold it anymore, because feeling it reminds me of what I just tried to do. Yoshimi smiles up at me from the ground, and I want to smile back, but all I can feel is guilt. I almost killed her, and she's not even giving that a second thought. Yoshimi is a gang whore, and I don't deserve to have her.

I remember sitting in the classroom, telling myself that only one can survive. I repeated it over and over inside my head as I continued to steal glances toward Yoshimi. But as soon as Fumiyo was killed with that knife, my first thought was, "What happens if Yoshimi's the next to die?" The thought shocked me, like getting punched in the stomach. I felt completely awake, the last traces of the sleeping gas leaving my system completely. I was completely aware – I understood how important Yoshimi was (and is) to me. And it scared me. It scared me because I wanted so badly to save Yoshimi while knowing that I couldn't do anything. And it scared me because I didn't want to die, meaning that Yoshimi would have to.

Yoshimi and I can't both survive The Program. Even if it gets down to just the two of us left, what will do then? Will we fight each other at that point? This is why I didn't want to find Yoshimi in the first place. Even if I couldn't convince myself that I didn't love her, if something happened to her before we met, then it would have been out of my hands. No difficult decisions and no attacks of conscience.

But I did find her. I found her long before she knew I was there. I watched her running out of the residential are just before it became a danger zone. I should have just run the other way when I saw her. I should have turned around and never looked back. But she drew me to her. I followed her out to this bamboo forest, just watching her as she checked her map and began to cry, whimpering my name. I almost convinced myself then, that I didn't love her. I tried to sneak up on her, to kill her before she even knew I was there, and she nearly blew my head off. Even after seeing how happy she was to see me, I still felt I had to kill her. And once the gun was in my hands…

I start to cry from my hunched position over Yoshimi. After everything I've done – she still loves me. I tried to forget about her. I tried to kill her. But she doesn't care about any of that. No matter how many times I overreact or how many times I screw up, she still comes back to me. She loves me and I love her.

I can almost hear Niida's voice now, cracking jokes about me being in love. He was so excited when Yoshimi and I started dating. I think it was because he thought I'd pass Yoshimi to him when I got tired of her. No such luck. Yoshimi is my girl. Trying to force myself to believe that I didn't love her – it just proves how much better of a person she is than I am. That I don't deserve her. But as long as she still wants me around, I'll stay here. That may be selfish of me, but regardless of what anyone has done, we all deserve a little happiness, right? Besides, with all that lies ahead of us, Yoshimi and I will need this moment. When we're facing down the barrel of a gun or the edge of a knife, we'll need times like this one to see us through. Times when it's just the two of us, existing together as we are.

And I know that tough times lie ahead of us. I haven't run into anyone else besides Yoshimi yet, but our classmates keep dying. That means that we're still in danger. Niida is still out there, and I don't mind meeting up with him for a little while, but I don't want to stay with him for the rest of The Program. I have Yoshimi's best interests in mind (now), but I don't think he will. And I don't want things to get messy.

And then, of course, there are Yoshimi's friends – the other girls in their gang. Hirono, I've never had a problem with, even if she seems a little intimidating at times. I think she realizes how much Yoshimi cares about me, and doesn't cause trouble out of respect for her friend, which I appreciate. It's Mitsuko that I'm really worried about. Some of the things Yoshimi has told me about Mitsuko…I almost can't believe them. The girl is hot, and I feel like her looks fool you into thinking she's really innocent. But Mitsuko is dangerous – we have to avoid her at all costs.

My mind returns to the present, and I see her staring up at me, her eyes wide and glistening. A soft smile creeps up her cheeks, and it lights up her face. I don't know what it is Yoshimi sees when she looks at me, but I hope she never loses sight of it. It makes me feel special, like there's something more to me, like I'm rising above my body.

"I'm sorry, Yoshimi." I whisper, the tears falling freely from my face. I say it out loud because I want her to know it. I want her to realize that I'm aware of my mistakes, and that I'm glad she still wants to be with me. Maybe that's what love is – staying with someone, despite their flaws. If that's the case, then there's no one else for me besides Yoshimi.

"I love you Yoji." Yoshimi says with a happy exhale.

My hands grip her around the shoulders. I want to pull her close to me, to shelter her with my body. I want to kiss her, to toss away our clothes to make love right here on the ground, to show her how much I love her. But for right now, just saying it has to be enough. Because I'm almost sure I heard something a little ways off. I don't want us to stay where it's dangerous.

"I love you t-" I can't complete my sentence because my words are stopped by an explosion from a few feet away. I see myself falling forward, falling against Yoshimi. I hope she knows that I love her. I hope she knows it even though I couldn't finish saying it, even though I couldn't protect her. I hope she knows that I'll wait for her on the other side.

My body falls slightly off to the right, my face turned towards Yoshimi's body. Her shirt is riding high, and I can see part of her breast nestled safely inside her bra.

There are worse ways to die.


	17. Girl Number 21: Yoshimi Yahagi

Blood drips from my fingertips. I reach out and touch Yoji, softly at first, and then with more force. I shake him hard as my eyes well up with tears. Breathing becomes just a little more difficult. Despite my efforts, Yoji continues to lie there, unmoving. His eyes remain open, but they're not the eyes that I remember. They're vacant and scary. A dark liquid drips from the corner of his mouth and begins to spread in a puddle around his head.

I want to cry. I want to scream until I can't breathe anymore, but I can't do anything. I can't even move – it's like all my energy is gone. I just want to slump over and curl into a little ball and die. I don't want to keep going without Yoji. But I remain frozen, staring down at his body like I'm waiting for him to suddenly jump up and smile and tell me it was all an act. Yoji doesn't move. He isn't pretending – he's really dead. And all I can do is wonder why.

"Did he hurt you?" a soft voice reaches my ears. I feel stupid for not realizing there was someone else here with me. If Yoji is now dead, then someone had to have killed him. I don't understand why I didn't see that earlier and the fear quickly wells up inside my body. I want to jump up and sprint away, but a familiar tone in the voice anchors me to that spot.

I slowly spin around, and I see her standing over me. A soft breeze passes and her skirt lifts up a little. I'm suddenly reminded of her tips for finding potential customers (short skirts, dark lipstick, and no bras), and I wonder if she's even aware that her school uniform covers her body like a bikini would. Of course she does – that was probably her idea. People underestimate her because of her looks, but she knows exactly what she's doing.

The sunlight filters in through the breaks in bamboo shoots. Her long hair seems to shine in the sun's rays. I've always been jealous of her hair. I mean, the girl's gorgeous, so it's tough not to be jealous. But more than anything else, I've always wished I had her hair. No matter how long it gets, it never looks messy or frizzy or dirty. It seems to shape itself to her body, curling at just the right places. I always wished I had her dark hair.

"Mitsuko!" I'm surprised to see her. I never thought I'd see her again, and suddenly she shows up out of nowhere. At first, I'm relieved, because Mitsuko's presence means that she's taking charge. And that means that I'll be taken care of. Mitsuko had her own way of looking after me, not at all like my brothers. Girls understand better than boys.

My eyes drift downwards, and in her right hand, I can see the gun. What used to be my gun before I gave it to Yoji. The gun that he threw away from us. She's holding it. I turn back to Yoji's body, and I see the hole in the side of his face.

Stop being so stupid! She has the gun! She shot Yoji!

"You're welcome." Mitsuko says with a slight edge. I can't hold it in anymore. I know what she's done. She killed Yoji, and she doesn't care. She doesn't care that she took Yoji away from me! But girls are supposed to understand…why doesn't she know?

"WHAT DID YOU DO?" I scream at her as loud as I can. And I can see it on her face too – she's surprised that I'm yelling at her. My brothers were surprised too when I lost it with them too. Always taking advantage of me, of my concern for my family, of my willingness to sacrifice my time and energy for them. They always think that no matter how hard you push, some people refuse to push back. And my parents were always ready to play favorites – giving my brothers the best because they are boys and therefore had futures! Always expecting me to take the backseat for them!

I can see that Mitsuko is doing that too now. I thought girls were different, that we were all in the same boat, trying to make our own way while everyone tried to push us back down. But I can see it in her eyes – Mitsuko's not interested in helping me, not anymore at least. If she was, she wouldn't have killed the only boy who never asked anything from me, who never tried to use me and then toss me away. Mitsuko is only interested in herself.

I stare down at the ground, my body trembling from that anger still burning inside me.

"He…Yoji loved me…"

Her eyes become stone. With an intense coldness, she says simply, "No." She says it with supreme authority, as if she knew what Yoji and I felt about each other. She's still trying to take advantage of me, trying to force me into submission so that she can come out on top. But I won't let that happen. Now that Yoji's gone, I'm all alone. And I'm the only one who will take care of me.

"You don't know!" I yell at Mitsuko, "You don't get it at all!"

"Actually, I do." She says with a soft smile, and for a second, I think that everything will turn out okay. But I've seen her smile like that too often. I know what's coming next. She swings her arm up quickly, the gun firing in her hand almost instantly. I don't have time to scream, to duck, to do anything.

"Now ask me if I care." Mitsuko says, her eyes like ice. My head is pushed back as the bullet races through me. I stare up at the sky, at the sun filtering through the top of the bamboo forest. My legs give out, and I begin to topple backwards. I can hear Mitsuko talking again, but the words don't register. All I can see is that light from the sky, twisting and forming until I can see his face.

I'm coming Yoji. Wait for me, I'll be there soon.


	18. Boy Number 16: Kazushi Niida

I swing with the nunchuks, but Takako is still out of my reach. I don't know how she can still run away. I've shot her in the leg with an arrow, stabbed her in the shoulder with her ice pick, and kicked the shit out of her. But no matter what I do, she still fights me, and she's taken my left eye and my left nut away from me.

I don't understand why she had to go and make this difficult. I mean, I'm not the best looking guy in the class, but I'm no Yutaka Seto. Besides, in this situation, I figured even Takako found be desperate for a last-minute fuck before she dies. Hell, if she was a good lay, then I'd even have let her live afterwards.

But no, Robobitch can never take the easy path. She's always looking down at everyone from up on her pedestal. She still thinks she's too good for me, well, I showed her, didn't I? We're both pretty injured, but I'm the one with all the weapons. And Takako is gonna die.

A part of me is almost sad that I have to kill her. After all, I've wanted to get with Takako ever since I can remember. She's been my goal for a long time. She's the one I think of when I crank one out late at night, and when I was done, I'd always promise myself that I'd get into her panties, even if it took 100 years. I will hate to break a promise to myself, but Robobitch hasn't given me any other choice.

Besides, it's not like Takako is the only hottie in our class. There's always Mitsuko, if you're into crazy bitches. And speaking of crazy, there's also Mizuho who's got a sweet rack. And I can't forget cute little Yoshimi. It might take a little persuasion from Yoshimi though, since she's apparently "dating" Yoji. But everyone knows that the girl's a whore – a few kind words, a little friendly hug, and soon she'll be on her back moaning for more. Yoji's death would definitely help things along too. I should finish up here soon and move on to the next girl.

I don't really know why I'm wasting so much time with Takako. I mean, I'm the one with the weapons – I could just leave Takako right here and let her defenseless ass get picked off by someone else. But I know that I can't just leave. Not now. She smashed my nuts, and there's no forgiving that. This isn't an issue of fucking her anymore – it's a pride issue. No bitch should ever get away with damaging a guy's manhood.

I raise the ice pick high over my head, ready to plunge it down into Takako's back. I was lucky I was able to shoot her in the thigh with my crossbow because everyone knows that Takako's the best sprinter in the school. And even though soccer helps with my speed, I wouldn't stand a chance keeping up with her if Takako's legs worked fine. She's as good as dead.

I swing the ice pick down, aiming for the back of Takako's neck, but she jumps forward with her arm outstretched. The sharpened point narrowly misses her body and the bitch crashes on the ground. I stop running, realizing that she can't escape. I've beaten her.

I huge knot forms inside my stomach when I see that she's holding something. I wonder if she found a weapon lying around left by someone else, and my body twitches momentarily into a state of fear.

"Remember this?" Takako says, her eyes filled with arrogance. I see that she's holding my crossbow, and instantly I start laughing at her. She looks at me indignantly with some confusion and yes, even some terror mixed in there. That stupid bitch couldn't even remember that crossbows need arrows. That weapon's as useless as a rubber band.

"It's not loaded." I say with a victory grin. Her eyes fall down to the weapon and I see the fear they contain. I don't care if it's only in fear - Takako respects me now. That stuck-up way she always talks to me – filling her comments with subtle and blatant insults. That look of disgust when she sees I'm trying to glance up her skirt. She understands now that I'm superior to her, and she respects me for it. But it's too late for her.

"Endgame, bitch!" I say with a cackle as I swing the nunchuks at her blood-stained face.

"NO!" Takako says in defiance, kicking out with one of her powerful legs. She hits my ankle and I lose my balance. I begin to spin in the air and my working eye notices that the crossbow isn't the only object Takako is holding. The knot returns to me gut when I notice she's holding an arrow.

Where the hell did she get that arrow? They should all still be in my duffel bag I left back a little ways away. There's no way…but I understand where it came from now. The arrow that crippled Takako's right leg. The one I shot her with. That's what she's holding.

But just as quickly as that fear arrived, I push it away. Just because she has an arrow now doesn't mean anything. I just won't give her the chance to load it into the crossbow. If she can't fire the arrow, then it won't help her. She surprised me with this last minute kick, but once I land, the bitch is mine.

A piercing pain races through my neck. My mouth is forced open and I can already taste blood inside my mouth. Just below my nose I notice that the arrow is pointing straight up to the sky. My head's been impaled by the arrow. A weak fury races through my body.

I lost? I lost to Takako? No fair! There's no way that I should have lost! I'll strangle her for this! I will, just give me another chance! I'll prove I'm better than her! I'm better than this stupid bitch! I'm better!


	19. Girl Number 13: Takako Chigusa

Hiroki holds me close to his body. It's a unique luxury, since he's never been comfortable to get this close to me. His powerful arms contour to my limp body, just like I knew they would. His face swims before my eyes since they are constantly filling up with liquid. Maybe I'm crying, but I don't know for sure. I guess there's a first for everything.

My head drifts off to the side for a second and I can see Niida lying there. A pool of dark blood is settling beneath his head in the lush grass. I can't see all of his face, but I can see where the arrow punctured the back of his neck, and I can see the blood-soaked tip protruding out from the other side. He looks even worse than usual, if that's even possible. I can't even imagine what I must look like. I wipe nose weakly with a single hand and notice the smeared blood on my fingers. I must look like shit. I hope this isn't Hiroki's last memory of me.

"Who did this to you? Was it Niida?" he demands. Doesn't Hiroki know me well enough to realize I'd never lose to that piece of shit? But now is no time to get upset over small comments like that.

I shake my head, "It was Souma. Bitch snuck up behind me. Couldn't even face me head on…after all Niida did…"

"I'm sorry Taka," Hiroki says, his eyes welling with more tears, "I should have been here to protect you. I was looking for you…but…I'm sorry!" He pulls me closer – it's cruel that I'm only going to experience this once. But the truth of the matter is that he was looking for me. Maybe…maybe he thinks of me the way…the way I think of him. I've always been too scared to bring it up. What if Hiroki doesn't love me? What if he tells me that he doesn't care about me like that? Or what if he says he does - only because I intimidate him into saying it? Or worse of all – what if he laughs at me?

I take a deep breath. I've been granted a final wish. I'm here with Hiroki, cradled close to his frame, feeling more secure than I have for a very long time. I can't let this slip away. I have to know the truth.

So I ask him. I ask him if we could ever be more than just friends. I hear Hiroki inhale sharply, and I don't hear him breathe out. He stiffens and his grip on me tightens. It's enough to tell me his answer.

"Too intimidating for you, huh?" I force a smile, "You should be…looking for the girl you…love, not wasting your time…with Robobitch."

"Stop saying that!" Hiroki says, his voice filled with hurt. But I doubt he aches as much as I do at that moment. "You're my best friend! So…precious to me…"

His best friend. It's not what I really wanted to hear. My heart feels like it's breaking, but with the rest of the pain surging through my body, my heart feels right at home. It's selfish of me to want something more. I can't…I can't let him know much my heart aches. This is how Hiroki will remember me when I'm gone – I won't let him see me cry.

"That's nice…precious…" I say softly to myself. A painful smile crosses my face. Best friends – it's the most of Hiroki that I can have, even if I was willing to give him all of me.

"You were…everything to me…Hiroki." I say. I don't want him to feel guilty. I tell him because it's the truth, and when you're dying, the truth is all you care about. I needed to know if he loved me, and now I need him to know that I love him. I have no more inhibitions, no more fears – only truth exists. And the truth is…that Hiroki is my everything. There is no other place I'd rather be than right here in his arms.

My smile no longer feels painful. All those nights alone in my room, the telephone in my hand, Hiroki's number running through my mind – I wanted to tell him…but I was worried what would happen to our friendship. I didn't want to lose him because I was selfish and wanted more from him. All those times seem foolish now – wasted time. I have told Hiroki the truth – I don't have anything tying me to this world anymore.

"Everything…to me…"


	20. Girl Number 20: Kaori Minami

The gun is heavy in my hand. I've lowered my arms down to my sides and for a second, I wonder if I can raise them up again. My weapon is trying to drag me into the ground, and I begin to panic. My legs begin to shake and I'm sure that they won't be able to keep me standing. I want to let the gun slip from my fingers but I'm terrified of letting it go. The gun is the only thing keeping me safe.

But what good is the gun if I can't lift it? My knees begin to tremble. I'm going to collapse. A few feet away, Shuuya talks to Hirono about something I can't hear. They don't even see me anymore. It's like I'm invisible to them – they won't even notice if I just drop to the ground, unable to stand up anymore.

Shuuya's words keep echoing inside my head. Was I wrong when I heard him say "escape"? No, he did say it. That's why we stopped shooting, wasn't it? It's why Hirono's acting so nice. Otherwise she'd still be shooting at me. I bet she didn't expect me to fight back this time. She's always bullying me back at school; I never fight back. But I have a gun. Hirono can't take advantage of me as long as I'm holding the gun.

But what good is the gun if I CAN'T LIFT IT? My legs begin to shake even more. God, I want to believe Shuuya so much, but what if we can't escape? What if he's lying? Is he trying to kill me too? No, Shuuya had a gun too. But he threw it away – he wouldn't have done that if he was trying to kill me and Hirono. He would have shot at us – not revealed himself. Maybe…he's telling the truth?

Hirono smiles, and a chill runs through my body. I begin to shake a little more, the vibrations racing down into my toes and up my back. I recognize that smile, the way her lips curl back to reveal her bright pink gums. The slight squint in her eyes. She's trying to win Shuuya over. Everyone knows that Hirono's a whore, but I think I'm the only one to run into her when she was working the street. I had run into her on the sidewalk and Hirono had looked surprised to see me. But then she had seemed so angry that she was going to seriously hurt me. A man had approached us then, and her face had changed – she had smiled that same way. I had taken that time to run away as fast as I could, and ever since then, Hirono has always gone after me.

I know what she'll do. She'll win Shuuya over and then she'll convince him I'm not worth saving. Will Shuuya let Hirono kill me? I wish I could answer that question. Normally, I'd say that Shuuya wouldn't allow anyone to kill me. That's just the kind of person he is. But if Hirono has him inside her, could she make him agree to anything? I won't let her kill me. Out of everyone on this island, I will not let Hirono kill me.

But what good IS THE GUN IF I CAN'T LIFT IT? My body's shaking all over now. Hirono and Shuuya continue to remain oblivious to me. One of my knees finally gives out and I stumble forward, but I catch myself. I yell at myself to snap out of it. Now's not the time to break down. If I show any sign of weakness, they might just leave me behind. They won't put their trust in me if I can't even hold myself up.

That's when I remember the cat. The cat that I killed. What if they find out that I killed the kitty? It won't matter that it wasn't human. They'll know that I can kill. And they won't trust me anymore. That stupid fucking kitty! It surprised me out in the forest – I didn't mean to kill it. I thought it was something trying to kill me. It's not fair, they'll leave me out here by myself if they find out. Or worse, Shuuya and Hirono will team up and kill me.

But there's no way they'll find out. I left the cat's body back there in the forest before I found Hirono. And even if we somehow come across the kitty's body, they can't prove I killed it. My hand reaches up to my chest and I grab the locket of Junya hanging there. I can be strong. Soon Shuuya will take me away and we'll all escape from this awful island. I just need to relax. My body's trembling begins to slow. Everything will be okay.

And then she does it. Hirono's eyes leave Shuuya's face for only a moment. She glances over at me. My hand tightens around the locket. I don't need to look at it because I know Junya's face is there, smiling back at me. But Hirono isn't smiling. Not when she looks at me. Her eyes leave Shuuya's face, and her gaze meets mine for the first time since Shuuya showed up. Her forehead wrinkles and her lip puckers in a subtle frown. My breath catches. And suddenly, her expression is gone, her smile returned as she resumes her conversation with Shuuya.

She knows. I don't know how, but Hirono knows that I killed the cat. Maybe she watched me do it, or maybe I let something slip. I'm not exactly sure. But one thing's for sure – she knows I did it. And she'll tell Shuuya, and then he'll leave me behind. They won't trust me.

It's at that moment that Junya speaks to me. His voice startles me, and I almost fall over. But his voices rings clear inside my mind, and he comforts me. He sympathizes with me. Junya knows that I didn't mean to kill the kitty. But he tells me that Shuuya and Hirono won't understand. They'll jump to conclusions. He tells me that I need to stop Hirono from telling Shuuya about the cat.

BUT WHAT GOOD IS THE GUN IF I CAN'T LIFT IT? I take a deep breath, my eyes narrowing on Hirono. She's still chatting away with Shuuya. I need to stop her from saying anything else. I need to do it now! I swing my arm upwards, and I find that the gun is surprisingly light. I stare forward at Hirono's face and aim without thinking. I'll make it so that she'll never tell Shuuya anything.

I pull the trigger and watch her should explode in red. She screams, but it sounds muffled. Hirono glances over at me again. Her expression is the same as that day when I ran into her. It's full of rage and hatred, and normally, I'd be terrified. But I smile back at her and aim the gun again. The weapon is no longer heavy in my hand, in fact, it feels light as air. Hirono sees that I'm not afraid of her, and the anger leaves her face. Her eyes widen in fear before she clutches her bleeding arm and starts to run. Shuuya calls after her, but she keeps sprinting. I fire at her again, but Hirono is gone.

"I had to make her leave." I tell Shuuya. He turns to face me, his eyes frozen pools of brown. He's scared of me. He doesn't understand why I shot Hirono. I need to explain myself, but I can't let him lose faith in me. Junya will keep me strong.

"Hirono would have killed us both." I say, "She would have-" I stop in the middle of my sentence. Shuuya's slowly taking steps backwards, edging himself away from me. The fear is unmistakable.

"She told you, didn't she?" I say. Shuuya takes another step away from me. His mouth opens slowly, like he's going to scream.

"It wasn't my fault!" I say, my voice rising. I run over to him and Shuuya flinches as I stand before him. "The kitty snuck up on me. I didn't mean to kill it, I swear!" Shuuya begins to squirm. Junya says that Shuuya doesn't believe me. He says that Shuuya is going to leave me on the island and escape on his own.

"That's not fair!" I say, raising the gun up to his face. Shuuya's terrified eyes begin to water over. "You have to take me with you! Junya says so! You have to let me escape with you."

"Kaori, please," Shuuya says, his voice barely a whisper. I know his answer then. There's no way he can trust me now. He knows about the dead kitty. Hirono managed to turn him against me.

"If you won't take me with you," I say, my voice hissing with anger, "Then I won't let you escape either."

Shuuya closes his eyes, the tears falling freely. He can cry all he wants. All he had to was take me with him. He just had to let me escape, and Shuuya couldn't do that. If that's how he wants to play, then he deserves to die. I aim the gun directly between his eyes and begin to pull the trigger.

A loud explosion bursts from the side. I try to turn to see what it is, but I can't move my head anymore. My body is too heavy now. My legs buckle and give out, the gun tumbling out of my grasp. Oblivion begins to surround me, but in the shadows I can see Junya's face. He's telling me that everything is okay, that he helped me off the island. I let the emptiness envelop me. I let Junya envelop me.


	21. Boy Number 14: Sho Tsukioka

Sunset has always been my favorite part of the day. Mornings have brought too many hangovers and blinding lights. Afternoons all seem to blend together. A student's life is very boring, and nothing differentiates one midday from another. But as the sun sets, the sky is no longer that same old blue. Magentas and pinks and reds all swell together high above my head, celebrating the coming of night.

Night is where I do my best work. The shadows are my friends, the darkness my lover. No one has ever caught me following them. Not once. I think it's what I was made for. I've always considered myself the James Bond type – sneaky, clever, and damn sexy. Although I've never been fond of those Bond girls…

I've got blackmail on nearly every cop and Yakuza boss in the city. And whenever a high ranking official comes to town, I never miss the opportunity to expand my information. I wonder how many of them are happy that I've stumbled into The Program? I wonder how many will be disappointed when I emerge as the winner?

I'm playing this game the only way I know how – by gathering information. For the first three hours of the game, I walked around the island and observed anyone I came across. I've got a pretty extensive list of the contestants and their weapons inside my head. But it wasn't until I found Kazuo that I began to follow him.

I've followed Kazuo a few times before. What can I say? I've always been drawn to dark and mysterious men. But I love to follow him particularly. I've never walked down the same street when I trail behind Kazuo. He goes into different stores, down dark alleys, and he eats in different restaurants. I haven't been able to peg Kazuo's likes and dislikes because he's always doing something different, trying something new. Maybe that's why I'm so infatuated with him, because I know very little about him.

Following Kazuo now is the smartest thing I've done so far. I can't risk him finding me somewhere out there in the playing field – I wouldn't stand a chance. This way, I always know where he is. And when it's just the two of us remaining, I'll be able to kill him with almost no trouble at all. Well, it won't be that easy. But with all his injuries, it will be a hell of a lot easier than trying to play on my own.

The soft tinkling continues in the outhouse. Already, I've learned more about him than I could have on the city streets. I had no idea that Kazuo had such a problem pulling out his manhood in the wilderness. I guess his upbringing is more prevalent than I knew. I wonder just how adventurous he could be…he doesn't seem to care about anything; maybe he'd be willing to give me a try…

I shake my head, forcing myself to see the reality of the situation once again. Soon, Kazuo will be dead. There will never be a chance for me and him to get some alone time. I need to stop fantasizing and prepare myself for the next two days. I need to keep myself hidden until Kazuo has killed everyone else, and then claim the victory.

A soft breeze drifts by, and I realize that the door isn't securely latched. Has it always been like that? It seems like something I would have noticed. The door begins to swing, and I can't help myself. I start to get aroused by the thought of catching a glimpse of Kazuo's package. I hold my breath as the door swings wider, and that's when I see it.

A water bottle dangles from the ceiling, tied with some string. The bottom is punctured, letting out a slow stream of water into the basin. I realize that I haven't been listening to Kazuo pissing at all. But if he's not in the bathroom, then where the hell did he go? I glance off to the side, and there he is, casually strolling down the dirt path. It's almost like he knows I'm looking at him, because he stops and stares over at me.

I'm on my feet, staring back at him. I don't understand how this could have happened. No one ever knows when I'm following them. NO ONE! How could he have figured it out? How did he know I was here? It suddenly hits me – why he decided to use the outhouse, why we came all this way. I'm still in D-8. It's about to go danger zone, and I don't have enough time to escape.

"No," I say, my whisper floating away on another breeze. I gaze down at him as he continues to stare at me, watching me. For the first time, I'm the one that's being observed from a distance. And I wonder if Kazuo knew I'd been there all along. Did he know I followed him through the city streets, snapping his photograph for my album of him? I can see now that the shadows were not my friends. The darkness is not my lover. All shadows come from Kazuo's eyes. He IS the darkness. He only let me exist there.

With a harsh exhale, a surge of rage fills my body. I aim my tiny gun in his direction, knowing I don't have a shot in hell of hitting him. He knows it too, because Kazuo doesn't even blink. I release a cry of anguish of fury. But it's swallowed up by the quick beeps at the collar around my neck, followed by a loud explosion.


	22. Girl Number 10: Hirono Shimizu

I feel pressure on my leg and butt. Fingers dig into my flesh and I realize that I'm not alone. My eyes drift down my body, and sure enough, there's a hand placed firmly on my ass. I follow the hand to the arm, down to a torso. Further down my body, firmly gripping my calf is the second hand. I try to swallow, but there's nothing in my mouth, no moisture to cool my burning lips. Plus, it hurts my throat to try and swallow. I've almost been strangled to death, and my neck aches. But all I care about is getting a drink of water. Or, that's all I cared about, before I realized I was being felt up by a corpse.

If someone had asked me if getting touched by a dead person would have freaked me out, I would have said no, followed immediately by some explanation of things I'd seen under my mind-expanding chemicals. Drugs always did a number on me, but that's why I did them. Hell, if taking ecstasy was going to make me stay at home, do my homework, and become afraid of other people, then I would have taken it, would I? If drugs weren't fun, they why would anyone do them?

I shake my head slightly. It feels heavy, but light and airy at the same time. Can't let myself get sidetracked. Got to see to the matter at hand. There's a dead person rubbing my ass and gripping my calf. And he's not being very gentle about it either. I guess if I was dead and wanted to get laid, I'd be aggressive about it too – can't waste time with foreplay, you never know when you'd be just another dead body again.

My head swims. God, maybe eating those mushrooms wasn't such a good idea. Since when do dead bodies walk around? And since when do they come to me looking for sex? No, something's wrong here. Could it be that he's not dead? No way, that's not possible. I shot him. Fucking Frog Boy. I shot him. He's dead – he's got to be a corpse.

I can see his face - that wide nose, those huge lips. That massive Adam's apple. He looks more like a frog than anyone else I know. I see him slide his tongue out of his mouth, and I expect him to shoot it forward and catch a fly or something. His hands tighten around me. If he thinks I'm going to let him fuck me, Frog Boy's got another thing coming. He just tried to strangle me. Just because I killed him doesn't mean I owe him anything. I just want some water. I need a drink.

And suddenly, I'm falling. I see the edges of the well race by me. My face hits the side of the stone well and my body jolts. I can feel myself bleeding as I fall, and I see the dark water rising to greet me. I'm suddenly surrounded in darkness, floating in nothingness. I can't breathe, and it frightens me. I begin to thrash around, and I suddenly break the surface. Air rushes into my lungs and I cough up some water.

The feeling of the liquid in my mouth soothes my burning tongue, my chapped lips. It feels good, until I see where I am. The night sky is a small circle high above me. I reach up towards it, not exactly sure what I'm reaching for. My hand touches the smooth side of the well, and when I try to grab it, my fingernails bend and break off. I stare at the stumps at the ends of my fingers, knowing that I'd be more in pain if the 'shrooms weren't doing such a number on me.

My head sinks under water and I try to push myself back above the surface. The water swirls before my eyes, the shapes distorting the otherwise obsidian surface. I can see Shuuya in the water, his hand reaching for me. There are others behind them, but they're not as important as Shuuya – he's all I focus on.

"I came back for you," he says, and I believe him. One of my hands reaches towards him, the other traces its way up to my throat. I can't feel the collar – is it really gone? Blood drifts from the tips of my hand. My fingers graze Shuuya's palm. He came back for me. I smile, and the water and blood distorts my vision. I place my hand on top of his, feeling him grasp it firmly.

It really is finally over.


	23. Boy Number 2: Keita Iijima

I think I started with magic because I thought it could be real. Not all tricks, but maybe some. Card tricks are never real – it's all a counting game, or slight of hand. Those tricks were the easiest to learn, because I can distract people like no other. A small slur here, a little insult there, and their attention is immediately drawn to me, and I can do whatever I need to the cards. The trick always works, but some people get fed up with the rudeness.

But all magicians have to start somewhere. Cards were my beginning, and I then I started with more complicated magic. I subscribed to magician magazines, bought books about tricks, and even sent out a few letters to magicians, asking if they had any apprentice positions open. I'd go to magic shows, trying to figure out the tricks from the audience. For the most part, the illusions were pretty transparent, but whenever I'd see one I couldn't figure out, I would think – is this it? Is today the day I finally see that magic is real? However, snooping around backstage always managed to disappoint me. The magic was still impressive, but it wasn't real. None of it was real.

Shinji stands in front of me, the gun pointed at my face. I jump back, my face startled. Truth be told, I'm not surprised in the least. Shinji was always a tough one to be around, constantly staring down his nose at the rest of us from his high horse. It doesn't surprise me that Shinji still can't let our past history go – he was always too conceited to let any slight pass him by without some form of retribution. We both know I ducked out of the fight. He and I locked eyes during the scuffle; we know that I was too scared to join in. But that's not enough for the son of a bitch. He needs me to admit it too, he wants to

hear me say how much of a chicken I am.

"Oh," I say, "I can be such an asshole." And it's true, everyone knows it. I toss the kitchen knife away from us, letting it settle into the ground a good ten feet away. I wonder, do you like magic tricks, Shinji? Never let one hand know what the other hand is doing. Misdirection. You're so focused on the knife, you're missing the obvious. These houses are still completely filled with objects, and all these houses have kitchens. You'll just assume that the knife was my designated weapon, without thinking that I could have found it in dozens of houses. The knife isn't my weapon, it's just a prop – something harmless to draw attention away from me.

I found my true weapon in a tiny bottle inside my duffel bag within minutes of the start of the game. It's a neurotoxin, a poison. It doesn't kill the person outright, according to the information packet accompanying the bottle, it leaves them completely paralyzed, but aware of their surroundings. How would that make you feel Shinji? How would you like to know what it's like to be completely in someone else's power? That would be the worst way for you to die, wouldn't it? A quick stop to the infirmary and I've got all the hypodermic needles I require to make a small injection to anyone. Then I can slowly carve them up, making sure they feel everything. And just like magic, I'm the only one left.

Shinji's just being too difficult. Even when I point out that I'm a better ally than Yutaka, he still refuses to bring me along. I can't get close enough to stick him with the neurotoxin. I won't let Shinji's gun escape my grasp. I won't let Shinji be the one to come out on top. Not ever again.

"You're not leaving me!" I say, my voice high pitched and hysterical. Stage performance – a magician's got to help the audience believe in him. I race forward, desperate to not let my prey slip through my fingers. I won't let Shinji get away. A shot rings out, and I jump back a foot. My body shakes, and I realize that he tried to shoot me. But he missed me. Shinji never misses his shot. Did I make him miss? I tremble until I can't stand, and I collapse, wincing as something pokes my thigh from inside my pocket. My head begins to swim, my vision becoming fuzzy.

I know what's happened, and the toxin's already beginning to work. Panic starts to well inside my chest. I'm going to be left out in the open, completely paralyzed. I'm just going to be a sitting duck, waiting here for this area to become a danger zone or for some other person to finish me off. Rage begins to rise inside me. Damn that fucking Shinji! He's going to beat me again!

No, not this time. Before he leaves, I'll just charge him and stick him with one of my needles inside my pocket. Then it will be the two of us trapped here. I won't let him escape – I won't go down alone. Shinji missed me with his gun the first time – I can make him miss me again. Just like magic.

"I won't let you leave me!" I say, as I force my legs into actions. They feel stiff and numb, but I know I can get to him before the toxin's completely in my system. I won't be left alone. Whatever happens to me will also happen to him. And then you'll know Shinji – you'll know you're no better than the rest of us. No better than me!

I watch him raise the gun to my face and I hold up my hand, forcing the bullet to miss me.

POOF!

When the smoke clears, I'm gone. Vanished before everyone's eyes. Just like magic.


	24. Boy Number 12: Yutaka Sato

I don't think there are many people who know Shinji Mimura. Well, that's not completely true. Practically everyone in our school knows him by name, and people all over the city know him on sight. His basketball skills have gotten him lots of attention, both by scouts from colleges and by a good majority of the female population. I've never seen Mimura naked like all those girls, but I still know him better than any of them. And I've got something on all of them – I'm probably the only one to see him cry.

It's not easy being Shinji's friend. Or maybe it's just not easy for me. Or someone like me. I'm riddled with self-doubt – about my height, my size, my _teeth_. I gaze in the mirror and feel like I'm looking at a buck-toothed ten-year old in a high-school uniform. Match that insecurity up against Shinji's intense confidence (which rivals on arrogance) and all you do every moment of every day is wonder – am I really his friend? Does he really care about me, or am I just a pity-party he can use to make him feel better about himself? Can I trust him to take a bullet for me?

Yoshitoki sympathizes with me to some extent. Shuuya's always been a popular guy, and Yoshi told me that that came with some baggage. But while I was drowning in my insecurities, Yoshitoki said he'd always be worried that Shuuya would leave him behind for other, more popular people. I can still see Yoshi smile and say, "We're your friends for a reason, Yutaka. If you can't trust us, then who can you trust?"

I miss Yoshitoki. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't prefer to be with anyone else right now besides Shinji. But I can still see Yoshi, screaming at the top of his lungs at that pig-faced Kamon. I think we all knew what would happen. But that didn't matter to Yoshi, and for that I envy him. He died a hero back in that classroom. No one will know what happened to him, since there were no cameras in that room, but to everyone who watched, everyone who wanted to curse and scream and attack Kamon – he was a hero to us.

The night air is cool, and I glance over to Keita. Yoshi and Keita – neither one is any less dead. But Yoshi was killed early, trying to avenge his caregiver, dying a hero. Keita was shot down as he pathetically attempted to find someone to protect him, someone he could trust. I can see myself in Keita, seeing the person who needs the reassurance of Shinji. And I can see myself in Shinji now too, as he stares up at the moon, the light glistening off the tears only I can see. Shinji now knows what it's like to question the trust in your friends, to question yourself. It's too late for Keita, but I can be the friend Shinji needs right now. I can take the bullet, if it comes down to it.

"It was an accident." I say, handing the handgun back to Shinji. It's what he needs to hear right now. He takes the gun, his face staring at me with both gratitude and relief. He leans over and embraces me. The act surprises me, since Shinji exhibits barely any form of intimacy with anyone except the girls he happens to be doing. The hug is awkward, mostly due to our height difference, but also because I know that Shinji isn't used to this sort of thing. I know he's trying to show me that he's sorry, and that he's grateful.

"I'm glad it was you, Yutaka," he says, and he means it. Nothing can ruin this moment. No matter what happens after this, this moment is all that matters. Whether we succeed or fail, nothing is as important as the two of knowing that, in The Program, we were all the other needed to feel safe.

I don't even hear the bullets being shot. All I can feel are tiny pinches all over my body, like I'm getting stabbed with a ton of sewing needles. Shinji and I fall away from each other, and I hear him curse. He fires the gun away into the darkness, and I realize I can't turn my head. He stands up, and grabs the equipment we spent so long collecting. I see him glance down at me, and for an instant, his expression is filled completely with sorrow. For a second, I wonder if he's leaving me. But I realize that's not it. It's time for me to prove myself.

A shadow looms over me, and I can't move my eyes to see who it is. I'm a little disappointed, but I understand that it's not important. I see the shadow of a gun pointed downward at me.

"It's fine," I want to say, "Kill me as long as you let Shinji go. I'm willing to take the bullet for him." I know if I could say them, then everyone would know that I'm dying a hero too, just like Yoshitoki. But ultimately, only two people will know my sacrifice – me, and Shinji. At the very least, I can give him time to escape.

Well, go ahead! What are you waiting for? Shoot me alread-


	25. Boy Number 19: Shinji Mimura

I've never had any problems with Kiriyama. Not until today, at least. I mean, I've heard about the things he and his gang do. There's some sketchy stuff there. But I figured, as long as he stayed away from me, I'd do the same for him. In fact, the only form of interaction we had was always indirect. He and I were always at the top of the class – and even though I'd never admit it, I always saw him as a competitor for that top position.

I guess that's why I wasn't surprised to see that he was playing. I mean, yes, I was physically surprised when bullets emerged from nowhere and sliced open my gut. But the fact they were from Kiriyama? Not a shocker. A part of me always suspected that he'd try to come out on top in The Program too, just like school. I guess I showed him who's number one.

The fire reaches high into the sky. No one could survive an explosion like that, not even Kiriyama. I'm pleased with myself. Really, I am. I built the bomb. I made the plan. Kiriyama is crispier than bacon on burnt toast. I could have beaten The Program. That counts for something. But at the same time, I'm disappointed. _Could have_ doesn't mean much. Like, I _could have_ saved Yutaka's life. At the end of the day, Yutaka is still dead, and my intent doesn't count for shit.

That's my one regret right now. Yeah, I know that without duct tape, my intestines would be around my ankles. It reminds me of a joke – why is duct tape like The Force? Because there's a light side, a dark side, and it holds the universe together. And right now, the universe is my gut. I'm not going to survive much longer. But like I said, my one regret is Yutaka. I dragged him into my plan, and he's dead because of me. Because I shot Keita, because I couldn't protect Yutaka from Kiriyama. When I found him, I thought I was saving his life, protecting him from an early elimination and taking him with me off the island. As I stare at the gaping hole in the back of his head, I realize I might as well have pulled the trigger myself.

The sound is so soft that I barely hear it above the inferno raging in front of me. But I do hear it, the pad of a footstep. Someone's found me, and I realize how stupid I've been, standing next to an explosion that can be seen from all over the island. I spin around, ready to pull the trigger. But I hesitate, because there stands Kiriyama, without a scratch on him. The submachine gun explodes in his hands and I can't help but scream as tiny holes bore through my body.

I fall backwards, my body feeling limp. This doesn't look so good for me anymore. Kiriyama slowly approaches me, getting a fresh clip of bullets for his gun. But I barely notice him anymore. Why are my thoughts drifting to my friends? I thought my whole life was supposed to flash before my eyes, so where are all the ladies?

I won't lie, seeing my friends fill me with more regret. Yutaka knew how I felt about him, but what about the rest of them? Could they see past my pompous attitude? Did they know that without them, I'd be lost? Did they hear the words beyond my sarcastic remarks, my selfish attitude?

Kiriyama looms over me. He's ready to take his spot at the number one position. Well, I may be down, but I'm not out. My friends may not ever know how much they matter to me, and that's my own fault, but I know how I can make it up to them. Kiriyama dies right here, right now. I will be his last victim. That will be my legacy in The Program – I may not have taken down the system, but I'll kill the one guy who prevented me from doing it.

Prepare to tie me for the number one position.

"Clutch shot, motherfucker," I say, forcing all my energy into raising the gun towards his face. I see Kiriyama stumble back, but it's too late. He's mine. I fire the gun, watching the bullet explode from the end of my gun, making a beeline for Kiriyama's throat. A single sidestep, that's all it took. It almost looks like he stepped before I fired the gun. Anticipation – he knew I wasn't finished, he probably knew before I did. Just like he knew I had a bomb – it's the only way he could have made is out of the barn in one piece.

He swings his arm up and fires a single shot that pierces my chin. Blood begins to gather in the back of my throat as I struggle to breathe. I choke and sputter as I run through the last couple of seconds over and over again. A single sidestep. I missed the shot. I failed.

Kiriyama stoops to pick up his dropped items, and he stares into my face. I see the slightest hint of smile, but that's not possible. Kiriyama never smiles – even I know that. But it's written all over his face – he's number one. And he knows it. Who else can take him down if not me? I watch him turn his back on me, and he looks almost disappointed, like he expected more from me. Someone else will have to take him down.

Shuuya.

I don't have much time left. My coughing and sputtering stops – I can't breathe. I see the nail a few inches from my hand. I grasp it and begin to scratch into the metal behind me.

_Take the shot…_


	26. Boy Number 18: Tadakatsu Hatagami

I stare down at him, my mouth hanging open. He's writhing around on the ground, but every time one of his hand gets close to the gunshot wound, it hovers above the puncture before drifting back to the ground. Yuichiro is whimpering too, and the sound almost causes me pain. It hurts me because I did this to him. He's going to die because of me.

No! Not just my fault. That whore, that fucking bitch! This is her fault too. Why did Yuichiro jump in the way of the gun? For her? I wonder if she got to him while I was asleep. I mean, they were still talking when I woke up, but she could have gotten him off with his pants still on…

No, what am I thinking? Yuichiro jumped in the way of the gun because he wanted to save her life. Sex didn't have anything to do with it. He honestly believes that there's some good hidden somewhere inside her. Well, maybe he's right. But if it's really there, then it's hiding pretty good. She tried to kill me. Twice.

If only Yuichiro had believed me. We could have blown her head off when we first ran into her. Then Yuichiro wouldn't have a bullet deep in his stomach, and she-

Wait a minute, where did she go?

My answer comes in the form of a curved blade slicing deep into my nose. The pressure makes me crinkle my face, like I can feel a sneeze coming on but it just won't leave. That's right. The whole reason I wanted to shoot her. I saw her looking at the sickle; I saw her making a plan to end us. I guess she couldn't have asked for a better distraction.

The blade is removed from my face, but the pressure remains, and I can feel lots of liquid running down my face. It feels like sweat, but it tastes like blood. Maybe it's a little of both. The blade returns, this time to the top of my skull. It forces me downward to the ground, and I can feel more blood running down my head.

It's not fair – I was supposed to win. I was given the bat, but Yuichiro gave me the gun. As long as it didn't hurt, he didn't care about dying. He said I could kill him right then and there on the beach, right after handing over the gun. But I couldn't do it. Yuichiro knew he couldn't win, and he knew that I could. He gave me the gun so I could win, because that's what friends do.

I don't think I would have ever shot him. On purpose, I mean. Does that mean that I couldn't have won either? If it came down to me and him, could I have shot him? I guess that doesn't really matter anymore. I'm about to die and Yuichiro's not far behind me. It's all her fault.

Mitsuko Souma. Hardcore Souma.

It's her name for a reason. I should have been more cautious, I should have stopped her while I had the chance. I should have waited until Yuichiro fell asleep and put a bullet right between her eyes. But I didn't. And now, I'm going to die.

I'm sorry, Yuichiro. The gun you gave me was completely useless in my hands. You should have kept it yourself, and you should have stayed far away from me. Maybe if we hadn't met, maybe you would have found it deep inside you to pull the trigger when it counted. Maybe you could have won.

Please, forgive me, Yuichiro. She was just too smart for me. She was too fast, too deadly.

I see the blade flash towards my face one last time, as the sight of Yuichiro's body fades to black.

I'm sorry.


	27. Boy Number 13: Yuichiro Takiguchi

I was embarrassed at first. I mean, it's every guy's first reaction when he realizes he's got an erection. Despite the intense pain that's racking my entire body, I kept telling myself to turn over and hide my boner. With all the blood pumping out of the gaping hole in my stomach, how could there possibly be enough in me to get me hard? That's how it works, right? Biology isn't my strong suit.

Every breath I take is a gasp. Mitsuko isn't being very gentle with me, at least not anymore. When she was pulling my pants off, it was like she was scared to touch me. And when she did, it was soft and caressing. But now, she's pounding her body against mine like a hammer banging a nail. It's like she's using all her energy to lift off me and then letting gravity pull her back down to the ground. I don't think I've ever felt this good. Or this bad.

Each thrust knocks the wind out of me, and I feel like I'm suffocating beneath her. I want to push her off me, to curl up in a little ball and just die with what's left of my dignity. But she's so _warm_. The heat pulses through me as she throbs on top of me. It's almost like she's trying to save my life, like she's doing everything she can to prevent me from becoming cold and lifeless and stiff.

I want to believe Mitsuko is helping me, but I know that's not the case. I can't breathe, and the heat is making my head swim. If someone had told me that my first time would be with the most beautiful girl in my class, with a gunshot wound in my torso, well I'd tell them that they watched too many porno movies. What kind of person gets hard when he's bleeding, never mind dying? Just some pervert that I could never be – me, I'd tell them, I'll still be a painfully shy virgin on my thirtieth birthday.

I can see the gaping hole in my gut, and I watch as a geyser of blood shoots up from the hole every time Mitsuko pounds down on me. I can't take it anymore – this girl's going to drive me further and further into ground until I'm six feet under.

"Get off me," I say, mostly to myself, "It hurts." Mitsuko doesn't respond – if anything she moves with more force.

"Get off me!" I say, using all my energy to raise my voice as high as it will go, "You're killing me!"

"Stop?" Mitsuko says, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes grow wide with hurt, but she's stopped thrusting against me and the pain recedes for a minute. Looking down at me, her expression looks childish, like telling a child they can have only one toy and not the three she's got in her arms. _Why_, her expression asks, _why can't I have it all?_

"But you promised to stay with me," she says. I watch as her eyes, which held so much confusion and innocence, suddenly harden and turn icy cold. Before I can say another word, the scythe flashes into my sight. She splits my chin and slices open my throat in a single swipe, and suddenly the hard eyes are gone. She continues to thrust down onto me as I begin to choke on the blood gathering in my throat.

It's too much for me. I start to choke and sputter for air when I feel Mitsuko clench. She screams in either agony or pleasure, although I'm not exactly sure which. I don't think she even realizes that I'm already spent. She falls forward, her huge boobs circling my head. So, this is the last thing I'm going to see – the darkness created by Mitsuko's chest pressed up against my face? This has to be someone's erotic nightmare – how can this be happening to me? She's really a killer? If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I don't think I'd believe it.

I've heard what people say about her. But when I see her eyes – I can't believe that all of them are true. Not _all_ of them. At least, I _didn't_ believe all of them were true. I've never seen anyone's eyes change like that. It's like she's two different people.

The darkness is suffocating. Not metaphorically, I really mean it. One of Mitsuko's breasts is covering my mouth. There's no more air getting into my body. So this is how I go. I wanted it to be painless, and here I am choking on a huge tit.

At least I don't have to die a virgin.


	28. Boy Number 4: Toshinori Oda

It's like a ton of icicles are trying to puncture my body. Good thing I've got the Kevlar vest. Without that, all those little tiny bullets would have easily punctured my body. It's not like this is the first time the vest has saved my life. That stupid bitch Hirono almost opened my gut with her revolver, but I was too smart for her. Big surprise there.

I'm too smart for everyone out here. It's almost not fair. I mean, once they added me to the contestant pool, everyone else is as good as dead. I always was a top competitor in class, getting the best grades. But I have something that Motobuchi doesn't have – creativity. Knowing facts only makes you a computer – mindless, soulless. It's the manipulation of data that allows for higher levels of thought – the progression of genius.

I suppose the only form of competition I had was Kiriyama. The Great Pretender. I used to think of him as the ultimate computer – all facts, no resourcefulness. But there were times, very few times, where it almost seemed like he exhibited more creativity than I thought humanly possible. But those times, it always felt like…like a robot that somehow became enlightened, something inhuman gaining humanity just for a second.

Well, he won't be a rival pretty soon. He could have left me here, could have simply left my body lying on the ground after he attempted to turn me into Swiss cheese, but no. He got greedy. He wants my gun. Well, he can have it. He can pry it from my hand if he can survive a few shots to the head.

It will be a disappointment killing him. Mostly because he's like me, part of the upper crust, part of the elite. He and I could have been friends, at one point. The two of us, both superior to all the lowly peasants surrounding us. He and I, we're just made of better stuff, better genes. And he was lucky – he had good genetics on both sides, both of his parents from the top of society. Me, I got all my good genes from my father. My mother…

My mother always wanted a daughter. I don't think I ever understood why, maybe I never will. Must be a female thing. I heard my parents argue about it once, and my father complained that he hadn't wanted a second child, never mind a third. Sure, it hurt at the time, but the more I thought about it, the more sense it made sense. My father wanted an heir to take over the family business, and he got that with my older brother. He didn't really need me after that. I'd like to think that I've come into my own, even if my brother will be in charge of the company – that I add a little something else that my brother cannot.

But my mother still wanted a daughter, and she wouldn't relent. I poked my head around the corner to watch, just in time to see my mother slap my father in the face. A hard smack that made his already large eyes grow wider. It was almost scary, to see someone defy the all-powerful man like that. And for a second, he looked scared - human, even. But as soon as he laid eyes on me catching a glance, my father returned the favor to my mother's face, taking his place as head of the household again.

He explained to me, later, that my mother needed to be put in her place sometimes, that her upbringing hadn't informed her who the boss was. I learned then that my mother had been from the subordinate level of society. I was ashamed for a while, knowing that I had lowly roots inside me, but it only made me want to prove myself more. Everyone needed to see that I belonged at the top of the social food chain. That my dominant genes were all from my father.

Even if my mother ever did get the daughter she wanted to badly, she's just end up looking like me and my brother. My dad's genes are too potent – and my sister would be the ugliest girl ever to grace this planet. After all, my dad's rugged good looks (which are also my own) would be too harsh for a feminine face. Oda's were made to be men.

Kiriyama is only a few steps away. Just a little closer, and he'll be dead. I'll be able to put that powerful gun of his to good use. Sure, the revolver is nice, but a rapid fire weapon would be great to add to my arsenal. And with the vest on my side, I'll be unbeatable. So hurry up, Kiriyama, come face death already! Some of us have some surviving to do.

I sit up instantly, my gun pointed at his body. I rattle off a quick line about how he never stood a chance against me. It's true, and it makes this moment all the sweeter. But as I prepare to pull the trigger, I see that Kiriyama isn't there. Was I mistaken? Did I think he was approaching me, when he was really leaving?

No, I definitely heard his footsteps only seconds before. He's around here. Somewhere. I turn my head almost completely around, but I don't have to look far. He delicately lands on the ground, facing me head on. His gun is low, almost touching the dirt. It takes me a minute, and then it dawns on me. He's avoiding the vest!

"NO!" I scream, but it's too late. He's already firing before I can point the gun at him, before I can move, before I can think. It's like I'm trying to pass a kidney stone the size of a watermelon. My insides feel like they're being torn up, and that's exactly what's happening. I vomit inside the helmet, and it hits the interior, splashing back down in my face.

This is how I'm going to die? Getting shot in the dick and with vomit on my face? No, I refuse to go down like this! Give me the class and decency I deserve! I don't care if my mother was once lower class – I'm not like her! Do you hear me Kiriyama?! I deserve better than this!

I DESERVE TO LIVE!!


	29. Girl Number 16: Yuka Nakagawa

"So, what do you think, Yuko?" I say, taking the bowl of soup from her hands, "Should I take it to our Lover Boy?" I feel bad for doing this, but I've thought long and hard, and this seems to be the most fair. It's not that I don't care about the rest of them – that's not it at all. It's just…

I don't wait for Yuko to answer. Or maybe she does reply, and I just don't hear her. It wouldn't be the first time. The girl's just too damn quiet. Or maybe she's just quiet compared to me – although it seems like everyone falls into that category. It's not that I try to be loud, it just happens. I think of something funny and I want to share it. Because making someone laugh is one of the best feelings you can get. It's just that most of the time, the reason I'm funny is because I'm loud.

I can't count the number of times I've seen one of my friends roll her eyes and say with a frustrated smile, "Shut up, Yuka." It's never malicious – it's always to let me know that I'm beating a dead horse, and it's time to settle down. I love my friends, I really do. And that's why it hurts me so much to do this. I can see it, just resting on the counter, calling to me. My designated weapon – a pistol. Once that gun's in my hand, everything will change. The whole game will be different.

I can't tell them the real reason I keep tasting the stew. I'm trying to fill up my stomach, because once I grab that gun, it's back to dehydrated food for me. I'm going to miss my friends, and I don't think they'll understand. But this is the way it's got to be.

Shuuya shows up and starts talking about an escape. Escape? And to do this we have to trust Kawada? Who the hell is this Kawada kid? And why should we trust him? Not for me. Honestly, I hope that Shuuya is telling the truth, and that my friends manage to escape. But I've had enough. Tomorrow is the third day. At the end of that day, everyone who remains is going to die. I'm not going to sit in this lighthouse and wait for death anymore.

The pistol is mine. It was given to me – why shouldn't I take it back? Why should I leave completely unarmed? My friends wouldn't want that for me. Well, they wouldn't want me to leave either, but it's true – I've thought a lot about this. Mostly when it was my turn to be on watch. I thought about just taking the powerful rapid fire gun and its ammo and leaving right then and there, but I couldn't. I couldn't leave my friends defenseless while they slept. But now it's different. Everyone's awake, and they have the hope they need. As for me, I'm going back into the playing field to see what I find there.

I'll just grab the gun very subtly, leave the soup on the stairs, grab my duffel bag, and be gone before anyone realizes it. It's breaking my heart to leave them, but I'm already dead if I stay. We're too well fortified for anyone to break in. Everyone else is going to die out there and then it'll just be the six of us left in this lighthouse and we'll all die together. Or maybe Shuuya will lead Kawada inside and the two will just massacre all the girls here.

Either way, I'm dead. And I don't want to die. That's why I have to leave. This lighthouse is my coffin. The only way I'll stand a chance at living is to go. Who knows, maybe all my friends will escape and I'll win and we'll all get to live. I don't believe that will happen, but that's the hope I allow for myself. We all need hope to keep going.

I sniff the stew in my hands. God, I'm going to miss Chisato's cooking. She always does such a good job. One more taste – just to fill my stomach completely before I'm gone. I dip the spoon into the soup, noticing that the broth looks murkier than before. I shrug and swallow it down.

It begins almost immediately. The burning, the swelling. My tongue puffs up, and it gets harder to breathe. I start to cough, to choke. My stomach roars, and before I know it, all the stew in my stomach is spewing from my closed mouth. My stomach acid burns the inside of my mouth, or maybe that's something else that's causing me so much pain.

I can hear my friends screaming as I vomit onto the floor. I want to scream at them for help, but I can't stop throwing up. My stomach feels like it's on fire, and it's at that point that I realize it's not just stew anymore. There's a fountain of blood erupting from my mouth.

I turn to face my friends, to plead for their help. My eyes settle on Yuko, the way she's looking at me. I can see it in her face, the guilty sheen in her eyes. This is her fault, I know it is. I've got to tell them, I've got to tell everyone else that Yuko killed me. But there's no way I can speak – the only thing coming out of my mouth is blood.

I knew that I'd die here. I just didn't think it would be today. I thought I'd have at least another day. I thought I'd be able to leave, to escape this awful lighthouse. Maybe even get to live. But I was wrong. I'm dying here, and it's Yuko's fault – I can see it in her face. I want to twist everyone's head around, to see her face like I do – to show them she's the killer. But all they can see is me. All they can do is tell me to shut up and try to settle down. That's all I can hear over my own gagging noises, at least.

I collapse into a puddle of my vomit and blood, the bowl of soup shattering just off to my side. Killed by a bowl of soup? I didn't see it coming, but I guess that's the point. A part of me is angry at Yuko, but more than that I'm confused. Yuko's no killer – there was some other reason why she did this. And that's when I remember – the soup was for Shuuya.

But more than anything, I'm upset at myself. I missed my chance to leave, and now I'm dying. My vision's going dark, but I've noticed that the burning has lessened. It doesn't hurt as much anymore. And at least my friends will never know I was going to leave them. I want them to hold onto their hope, and find a way to escape.

I want them to escape this fucking lighthouse.


	30. Girl Number 19: Chisato Matsui

My ears must not be working. I can't hear any of the words being said, can't hear the stew bubbling in the pot, can't hear the seagulls screeching outside. I know the sounds are there, but it's all muffled, like I'm underwater. That's a good analogy for how I'm feeling. Sound is barely audible. I feel light, weightless. And I can't breathe. Yeah, I must be underwater – me, Yukie, and Satomi and everyone else.

Can bullets still work beneath the surface of the tides?

Everyone here seems to think so. They're all so hesitant to approach Satomi and that powerful gun, and I'm not ready to take any chances. Besides, I wouldn't have thought that poison would work underwater either. So that shows what I know.

I tried to swim to shore earlier in The Program. I knew I'd die once I got too far away from the island, but I was hoping the explosion would be quick and painless. I knew I was getting close to the edge when my collar started beeping furiously. I wanted to keep swimming, craved it. But I chickened out. The sound echoed inside my brain, even when I dunked my head beneath the waves. It terrified me, and I began my slow swim back. I'm ashamed to admit how relieved I felt when the beeping stopped.

But I can hear it again. That's how I know I'm underwater. Everything else is drowned out, and all I can hear is that anxious, high-pitched whine. It scares me almost as much as the last time I heard it.

Besides the rapid beeps, the only other noise that seems to ring true is my name. Whenever Satomi says my name, it's like a parting of the sea, and the sound echoes before the waters rush back in to surround us. I've tried to inform her that Haruka could have poisoned the stew too, although I don't really believe that.

Why the hell do I have to explain myself to Satomi? Who made her judge and jury? The gun? Is that all there is to it?

Haruka says anyone could have poisoned the stew, and I believe her. No one knows who it was, and Satomi doesn't seem ready to trust any of us. If that's the case, then why doesn't she just fucking leave? She's got the gun, just take it and go!

The gun.

That's the only reason we all have to listen to her paranoid bullshit. She's just as suspicious as any of us. Well, she's not holding the only gun. I see another on the counter a few inches away. I think it was Yuka's weapon. Single barrel pistol. Doesn't stand up well against Satomi's rapid fire machine gun, but a bullet is a bullet and the threat is there. That's all I need. A threat to make Satomi back down before she kills us all.

That's all I need – force Satomi to drop the gun, stop the ringing in my head, and return to the surface.

Take a breath.

I'm quick, very quick. The gun's at her temple before she or anyone else knows I've moved. I see Satomi's body stiffen as her eyes trail to the side.

"Now YOU have to listen!" I say, my words sounding warped. But before I can tell her to drop the gun, my voice catches in my throat for just one single second. But in that moment, Satomi turns and the gun fires. But no bullets emerge from the end of the barrel. Bubbles, millions and millions of them, rush out of the gun. They swarm around me, softly caressing my face, gently landing on the tips of my long hair. They feel warm, and I realize the collar around my neck isn't making noise anymore.

I take a breath, raising my face upwards, and I smile, letting the bubbles surround me.

And carry me away.


	31. Girl Number 2: Yukio Utsumi

Chisato has just died in my arms. It reminds me of those cliché movie death scenes, where someone slowly bleeds out, whispering their secrets to the only person there. I've always felt that kind of scene to be a little contrived – people rarely have a last chance to say anything before dying. Death probably gives people the freedom to say anything they've been holding inside them – even something they would be too afraid to admit under normal circumstances. Seen in that light, that kind of death scene can be almost cathartic, giving closure to those who are left behind.

Maybe that's why I so desperately want Chisato to say something. Not just because I don't want her to die. But also because the last thing I heard her say was, "Now, YOU have to listen!" And it seems like a sentence like that is usually followed up with something important. But the trigger was pulled and a hole appeared in Chisato's stomach. And she died, before she had a chance to say anything.

I rock her body gently, as if to shake the last phrase out of her lips. I don't care what it was. I couldn't have something awful, like, "Your dad and I were having an affair," or something completely innocuous and stupid like, "I really don't like tomatoes."

Anything, really, I don't care! Just something to give me some closure, some peace. Please!

But Chisato is silent, and that's because she's not my friend anymore, she's just a corpse, a dead body that I keep cradling in my arms. First Yuka, and now Chisato. I thought this lighthouse was supposed to be safe! We came here to hide together, to think of something to do. But all we ended up doing was shield ourselves from the death that was surrounding us. Should we be shocked that death finally came for us? Should any of us really be surprised?

I gaze up at Satomi, at the expression on her face. Confusion, first. Like she doesn't understand that Chisato is dead. As if she thought the last five minutes were all a dream, and she doesn't understand why she hasn't woken up yet. And then the realization of her actions gets to her. I can see it in her face, Satomi knows that Chisato is dead because of her. The guilt diffuses into her face, the horror of knowing that she stole the life of her friend. I expected Satomi to stop there, to realize that this isn't a game, that lives were at stake. But some new expression takes over where guilt left off.

Her eyes widen, and her nostrils flare, like a rancid smell has finally reached her. With all the blood and vomit in the room, it's no wonder she detects something rotten. She's holding the gun in two hands, but when I look closely, I see that she's shaking. Not just her hands, her whole body. But it's her smile that unsettles me the most. It's unnatural, like someone is pulling her face back and forcing her to grin.

And suddenly I know what that expression represents.

Insanity.

"She did it," Satomi barely whispers, "She killed Yuka and she just tried to kill me. You saw."

A breath catches inside my chest, and I feel the urge to throw up slowly rising in my gut.

"You all saw!" Satomi's voice echoes in the space between us.

Please, Satomi, I say. Or maybe I try to say it. I can't tell if I'm speaking anymore, or if I'm even breathing. I don't want to die. Please, Satomi, I don't want to die. Put the gun down. For God's sake, please put the gun down.

"She's the one!" Haruka cries from across the room, "Shoot her! Kill the bitch!"

Satomi's face distorts into one of pure rage, pure hatred. I watch her spin toward Haruka, the gun glittering in the sun as it slowly moves with her body. It's like slow motion, as the powerful weapon moves and is aimed at Haruka's body. And I realize that Haruka is about to die.

I remember the gun tucked into my waistband. How could I have forgotten it was there? I shake my head slightly and grab the weapon. My eyes settle on Satomi's face, as I prepare to puncture her body with bullets. But before that happens, I notice the tears streaming down her face. I am able to see beyond her facial expression. Far beyond the paranoia, the fear, the rage, the insanity.

Her _soul_ is crying out. Satomi is still in there somewhere.

"Stop her," I whisper to myself, "Don't kill her. Just stop her." I know I can't kill her. Because she isn't a monster. She's still Satomi – her tears have reminded me of that.

"No more killing!" I yell and aim and her hands. A single bullet will force her to drop the gun, and then we can calm her down. Diffuse the situation before someone else dies.

Did I expect her to pull the trigger when I cried out? Maybe. There was a fleeting, worried thought that buzzed around my head for a few milliseconds before I yelled at Satomi. I was worried that she'd panic and shoot Haruka as an impulse. I'm not usually a gambler, but I figured that it was worth the risk, since Haruka would die if I did nothing.

What I didn't expect was for Satomi to turn the gun on me. Is that a little conceited of me? That it never occurred to me that Satomi would point the gun at me and pull the trigger? It makes sense now, though. Chisato pointed a gun at Satomi, and know she's dead. I aim a gun at Satomi and…

I shouldn't have waited – I should have gone for a head shot. Because even if Satomi is still there somewhere, hidden deep inside the crazy girl firing at gun at me - she's not the one pulling the trigger now. Satomi would not kill her friends. The second she blasted a hole in Chisato's stomach, she became someone else. I should have remembered that. I should have killed her when I had the chance.


	32. Girl Number 17: Satomi Noda

I don't know when it happened, but my legs have given out from under me. It could be when I shot Yukie, or maybe after I killed Haruka. Or maybe I've always been on my knees after Yuka died, and I'm just realizing it now. Either way, I know that I've collapsed at some point, and all my friends are dead.

No, that's not right. Not all of them.

My eyes shift over to her. She cringes under my stare, and her hands clasp together. They hover right below her bottom lip, gently touching her chin. Her whole body is shaking, and I wonder if her legs will give out also. Yuko has never been particularly strong or brave, and I doubt that would change simply because she's become a part of The Program.

She's no threat to me.

That's probably why I don't immediately shoot her. At this moment, I'm sure if I felt threatened, even from something as harmless as a fly, I would kill it. That's why I shot everyone else. Chisato pointed a gun at me, so I killed her. The same goes for Yukio. Haruka was running for the gun to shoot me. I _had_ to kill them – I was defending myself! Should I wait until there's a bullet going through my head before I pull the trigger? Will that allow others to understand my actions, to justify my kills?

My breathing is heavy and there's a pounding inside my head. My legs still aren't working correctly, and in the back of my throat there's a lump that tastes metallic. There's a mist of blood in the air, and that's what is causing me to choke, making it hard to swallow.

I resist the urge to vomit.

What's my next step? Besides the obvious (making sure I can still stand), I'm not sure what I should be doing. Is it still worth my time at looking to escape? I glance around. With the exception of Yuko, everyone I wanted to escape with is now dead. Dead by my hand – which, for some reason, isn't making me as sad as I expected I would be. But that's something I'll address later. Escape seems unnecessary at this point. I've already come this far, already killed my friends. It only makes sense to finish the job I started.

Starting with Yuko. Sure, I could keep her alive for a while longer, use her as a body shield. But she'll be more of a burden than an asset. Yuko's strengths never were physical capabilities – even now, it looks like her body's on the verge of just breaking down. She'll be my final test – proof to myself that I can win. Because once she's gone, all of my friends will be dead, and nothing will get in the way of me winning The Program.

And once she's out of the way, it's up to visit Shuuya in the locked room. Taking care of him will be like shooting fish in a barrel.

It's weird. I can't remember why I was so resistant to playing The Program. My heart is still racing, but I can start feeling my legs again. I'm slowly coming down from my adrenaline high, but my thinking remains the same. Playing is the only action that makes sense. I should have seen it before. I'm lucky I realized it before it was too late.

I push myself to my feet. Yuko first, then Shuuya. And then the rest. There are so few contestants left…I can do this, I can _win_!

I don't even hear what I'm saying. Something to soothe Yuko, I'm sure, so that she doesn't run before I close the distance between us. Before I can shoot her. But then I hear the sharp explosion of a gunshot from behind me. I want to turn and look, to see who fired, but my vision is already fading; I'm already falling forward in a dead heap.

Who is it? Did Shuuya escape and kill me? Was that his plan all along? Is it somebody else entirely? Was someone pretending to be dead? Yukio? Haruka? Yuka? Oh my God, did Yuka fake the whole thing? Who is it? WHO IS IT?

_Who killed me?_


	33. Girl Number 12: Haruka Tanizawa

What would I have done if, when I first met Satomi, I knew that she would not only kill Chisato and Yukie (and hell, I'll throw Yuka in there too) but also be the cause of my own death? When she and I started chatting about nothing, forming the framework of what would become our friendship, I had no idea that I'd someday watch her point a gun and blow a hole in Chisato's stomach.

That she'd someday riddle my body with bullets. That she'd be the one to end my life.

That _someday_ is today.

I have returned the favor; I can see that from my crouched position over here on the floor. Part of her head is missing – a single gunshot wound from behind. Thought she had me dead to rights, but I managed one last act of revenge. It was easier than I thought. Aim the gun, pull the trigger, and suddenly pieces of Satomi's head rained down onto the floor. If I'd known killing someone else was that easy…

But still my victory is a hollow one. I'm still dying. If I'd been holding the gun instead of Yukie, this wouldn't have happened. As soon as Satomi started raving like a lunatic, Yukie should have put her down. I would have. Even when Yukie finally found it in her to pull out the gun, I could see her eyes scanning Satomi, looking for a non-lethal area to shoot. She hesitated, and that's why she's dead.

I would have killed Satomi if I had the gun. Sure, I would have had to deal with Yukie's bullshit, but at least it would only be Yuka and Satomi dead instead of all of us. No wait, that's wrong, Yuko's alive too. I can just barely see her beyond Satomi's corpse. The poor thing looks terrified, but that's nothing new. Always so fragile – sometimes it frustrated me. But maybe because I couldn't relate to her frailty. I'm an athlete – tough, fast, and strong. My height helps me with volleyball, and so do my long slender arms. I've never felt weak or delicate, and I don't think I'd ever want to.

Not that I'm any better than Yuko. All of us – we all have (no wait, had…we all _had_) our strengths and weaknesses. Yuko is fragile, but compassionate. Her faith empowers her in a way that most of us can't understand (or even compete with). She's warm, and kind, and she always manages to make us become better. Like, even if she's not destined for greatness herself, she can make anyone else succeed at anything. Maybe that description makes her seem like a doormat, but that's not what I'm implying. She brings out the best in everyone – yeah, that's what I'm trying to say.

Yuka could always make us laugh. Maybe that doesn't sound as important as it seems, but she really had a gift. She could sense when someone was feeling down and, friend or not, she wouldn't be satisfied until they were grinning and chuckling. I think she used laughter as a defense mechanism, especially since she was always struggling to keep her weight down. That as long as everyone laughed _with_ Yuka, they weren't laughing _at_ her. Sometimes that makes all the difference in the world. But as much as it was her shield, it was her sword too. She won everyone over with her sense of humor – whether you liked her or not, you had to admit she was funny. The hardest thing in the world is to argue with someone who's cracking jokes, or stay angry at someone who knows how to make you smile. Yuka understood that, and she embraced it totally.

Yukie was meant to be a leader. It was a part of who she was. She had a gift for taking charge – she could inspire even the most lackluster group of people to become passionate about their project. She became the leader in situations where people were afraid to step forward. She was a good listener and knew when to delegate activities to people with more skill than her own. She was also bossy and, at times, aggressive. She told me once that leading people was simply telling them what they wanted to hear, whether or not it was actually true. Not that Yukie was a liar. Not in a complete sense. I guess she simply knew what it took to get people to follow you. That kind of ability could have easily led her to the top of any government office or business corporation. And I think Yukie knew that too, and it scared her - to be aware of the power that would one day rest in her hands. But it didn't scare me – I knew that only goodness would come of Yukie entering the adult world. The entire planet should mourn the loss of Yukie – the world will be a worse place because she's no longer in it.

I miss Chisato the most, though. When I think about our friendship, I wonder why it exists. Not that Chisato and I didn't like each other. Far from it. I just wondered why our friendship worked. She and I had nothing in common. No joint likes or dislikes. No similar after-school activities. No interest in the same school subjects. So where was the foundation? Why did we come together? I still have no idea. But I know how I felt when I was around her. She made me feel important. Chisato did that for everyone. Even the smallest accomplishment, the tiniest victory – she could make you feel like you climbed Mount Everest. I don't know if anyone else like her exists. But I know I'll miss feeling special.

My only working eye trails over to Satomi's corpse. It wells with tears. I can remember the two of us laughing at the same movies, shopping together. I can remember how she was the first to show up at my house when my mother died. And how she was the only one I could tell when I was raped. My teeth grit as I stare at her lifeless body.

I won't accept that our friendship means nothing! I refuse to even think that. It's all The Program! It's The Program that turned us against each other. Satomi's actions do not nullify our friendship. I won't allow them to!

I choke out a few sobs before my body begins to lose its energy.

We can't be held completely accountable for our actions in The Program. We aren't ourselves.

My eye rolls up into my head as my body collapses.

Satomi is my friend – I just know it!


	34. Girl Number 9: Yuko Sakaki

It's strange, how the fear has dissipated so quickly. I guess I just got so used to it, that I forgot what it was like to not feel afraid. But that's not to say that I feel nothing at all. No, that's certainly not the case. The guilt still hasn't left me. And why should it? After all, my friends are dead because of me. Because I gave in to my fear, my delusions, my inner demons. I lit the bomb and they all blew up. Their deaths are my fault – it is my burden to carry now.

But there's also a sense of freedom that I experience. I would describe it as flying, if I weren't currently plummeting to my death. But there's a release I feel, like someone pulled out the plug in my heart, and all my emotions are just erupting from that hole. Well, if that were the case, then fear would be the plug, preventing me from feeling anything else. But now it's gone, and I feel light-headed, although maybe that's more due to the lack of oxygen.

I've been told that people who commit suicide usually regret their decision immediately after they've made it. Perhaps that makes me the exception. Any regrets I have do not include the part when I release the rail and fall from the top of the lighthouse. I was told that information about suicide cases when I worked for the suicide hotline for my church. Well, I _almost_ worked the hotline. I became anxious, thinking about the people who would call in, asking me why they should continue living. It was too much – I was scared that I'd say something wrong, that I couldn't talk them out of it, that their death would rest on my shoulders because I was too weak to help them.

I think Pastor Min was a little disappointed in me that day, when I told him I couldn't answer the phones. I kept all the other volunteers well-fed and served them tea when they asked. It was my own way of helping. I wonder if any of them could have talked me down, gotten me away from the edge. I doubt it. Not after the things I've done. This is my way for making amends.

Shuuya doesn't understand. I know he doesn't, because he's still screaming up there at the top. Telling me that I didn't have to die.

But I do. I do because inside my ears I can still hear the gunshots. Inside my mouth I can still taste the delicate spray of blood. And inside my mind, I can still hear them screaming, still watch them dying. Over and over, like a film reel. Even if there is a way off this island and out of this game, I don't deserve it. It should be for people who stick to their morals, who don't allow themselves to succumb to their baser instincts.

I can't see the ground approaching me from below. I stare upwards as I plummet. Past Shuuya, beyond the top of the lighthouse. I see the birds soaring amongst the clouds, how they dip and weave with the currents. Flowing with the wind, letting the breezes lift them higher and higher. I want to do that too, feel the exhilaration, become a part of the sky, transform into a zephyr.

But I can't. I don't deserve to.

_I'm sorry…_

That's when I hear them – the laugher, the whispers, the all-too-familiar voices.

"Yuko!" they call.

They beckon.

"It's okay," they say, "You don't have to be afraid!"

_I'm not!_ I want to say, _For the first time EVER, I'm not scared!_

The ground is fast approaching. I can feel it.

Maybe it's just the wind playing tricks on my ears, creating sounds as the air rushes by my eardrums. But that can't be right – each voice is so distinct – it _has_ to be them!

_Can you forgive me?_

"Come join us, Yuko!" they say.

I smile softly to myself. What can I do but oblige them?


	35. Girl Number 1: Mizuho Inada

It's taken me hours, but the circle is almost complete. It helps that the ground is so soft from the rain, but the falling water has done other things as well. Like soak me through to the bone. I'm _freezing_. My body shakes uncontrollably, but I continue my endeavors.

_Well done, Daughter!_

_**Yes, yes! Your efforts please us immensely!**_

_Soon the circle will be complete! Soon our holy fire shall rain down upon your enemies!_

_Soon our holy water shall cleanse you and make you pure!_

_**Soon our holy air shall fill your lungs, breathing life anew to you!**_

"Thank you, Masters," I say to them, "Your will is my own. Your wish is my command."

The design is difficult to recall completely. I knew this wouldn't be an easy task once I began it. But a useful one. Because this circle will become my safe haven, my sanctuary. In a game called The Program, there are no areas that are safe. Except here, in this circle. My Masters protect me with their divine powers, or they will, as soon as I'm finished.

_**Don't forget about the Symbol of Oversight to complete the circle.**_

Oh, right. How could I have forgotten about that? That symbol will allow me to see people who would do me harm long before they came close to my location. I'd know which of the other warriors I'd need to eliminate first.

And for a brief second, my hand falters. It hovers in the air over the ground, my job temporarily on hold. The other warriors – what if they are being guided too? My Masters – they are powerful, but they aren't the only gods out there. What if there are others in the playing field with divine help? What if they have a (I gasp in terror) Jade Amulet?

_Do we sense doubt?_

I gasp again, realizing that my Masters have been watching the thoughts race around inside my head. I feel a flush in my cheeks, embarrassed that they heard the fear that crept into my mind.

"No, Masters," I say, "Your power is unequaled." I immediately return to work, desperately attempting to finish this circle. I can see the finished product in my head, and I know that I'm nearly finished. Soon I will be safe. Soon, I will be the last warrior in this Battle Royale. Proven to be the most worthy, thanks to my Masters.

My hand pauses once again, right before it makes the last line to complete the circle. My mind is working again, but the breath catches in my throat, and my eyes well up with salty tears.

_**Daughter, what distresses you?**_

_Can you not feel our presence?_

"No, it's not that!" I say, dipping my head low. I take a breath, "The others. My hand maidens. The warriors in waiting. Why were they taken from me?" The two of them flash into my mind. I can almost see them standing next to me, giggling over an open magazine. They point to a picture and glance up to me, soft grins on their faces. Just like I remember them.

…Kaori…Megumi…

_Have you so soon forgotten?_

The voice echoes inside my head a few seconds, as I watch as the two girls glance at each other quickly, their smiles looking more uncomfortable. And I remember how they would always look at each other like that. How, every time I tried to educate them of the gods ruling our lives, they wouldn't look me in the eyes and snicker softly to each other.

_Weak-willed supplicants. Would they elevate such as you?_

As much as it hurt me, I shook my head. My Masters were correct. Only one would walk away from The Program. I am the most deserving. Eventually, I would have needed to eliminate them anyways. I should be grateful they were killed before I had to do it.

"They served their purpose," I say.

_They served OUR purpose._

_Are you ready? Are you prepared to receive our blessing?_

"Fulfill me," I say, opening my arms to the sky.

_**Know that you are the light and the way!**_

_One from many!_

_Daughter of Destiny!_

_**Speak your name! And take from us our divine protection!**_

"My name," I say, gazing up at the sky, the clouds drifting into the distance. The rain has left, and I have been made pure from its icy chill. My clothes hang on the nearby tree, but I don't think I'll need them. The sun has warmed me finally, filled with the fire of righteous fury. I can already feel my Masters' presence, their power welling up inside me.

"Mizuho!" Speaking my name makes my tongue tingle, like the syllables hold more power than they used to. Like my name has become something more than just a word. It's time to finish the spell, to seal my fate.

…_seal…_

"Daughter of Destiny!"

The seal! I forgot to close the seal! I didn't complete the circle!

The gun goes off right next to my face. If the circle had been closed…if the spell had been complete…

_Masters? Where are you?_

I wait for their voices, for their guiding light to lead me onward from here. But everything is quiet, muffled. I topple, I fall, I land on the soft dirt, the blood getting into my eyes, blurring my vision.

…_Masters…please, help me…_

Silence.


	36. Girl Number 8: Kayoko Kotohiki

I am such an idiot.

Sugimura gives me somewhere between fifteen and twenty minutes to run away, to escape from Kiriyama's deadly grasp. But I don't, I stick around to watch the fight in its entirety. And not even as an active member! I was given a _gun_ for fuck's sake, and I can't even find it in me, while the two boys wage war with their fists, to find my gun, or one of the many that Kiriyama has dropped, and put a bullet through the killer's face.

What was the point of me staying here? Obviously it wasn't to help, because I _completely_ screwed that one up. And it couldn't have been to watch the fight, either. Because every couple of seconds, I would feel the urge to vomit, could taste the bile in my mouth. I even dry heaved a few times. The blood and sweat and the total savagery of it all – it made me sick to observe the fight. I didn't enjoy a single second.

Why didn't I run away?

Was it because I felt I owed Sugimura something? Because he came looking for me, _searched_ for me to escape with him and Shuuya and Noriko and whoever else? Do I feel indebted to him, that if Sugimura was going to put his life on the line for me, the least I could do was watch him succeed or fail? Or maybe I never thought he _could_ lose, that he's so big and strong and tough that there was no way that he could be defeated.

But he _has_ been defeated. He has lost. He is on the ground, a bullet deep in his gut, fingers sliced off, missing an eye, all bloody and tired and just plain beaten. And, of course, here I am, useless as ever, waiting for Kiriyama to finish us both off. I can see it in Kiriyama's eyes – or maybe a better way to put it is that I _don't_ see it. I see no hesitation, no mercy, no guilt, no shame, no _nothing_.

I thought Sugimura had killed Kiriyama. We both did. But, apparently, taking a few bullets to the chest isn't enough to finish the boy off. He's indestructible, unbeatable, empty.

A robot.

That's what he is – not human, not even demonic, just a machine. All he can do is simply react to his surroundings, and he can do so with more skill than almost anyone else. How were we supposed to stand a chance against someone like that? How is including Kiriyama in The Program anything more than a death sentence for the rest of us?

Kiriyama stands over me, aiming the gun at my head. Again, I remind myself of how stupid I am, how I should have escaped when I had the chance, how I should have helped Sugimura during his brave battle against…the robot. It's too late for regrets now, because I'm the next name on the list for announcements. My name will ring through the open air of this island, echoing against the waves that surround us.

All the time leading up to this – it all feels like such a waste! The fear of being alone in the playing field, of sensing death slowly breathing on the back of my neck. The terror of waking up in that classroom, of knowing that I would most likely die. And even before that – the stress I would place on myself to complete my homework, the arguments I had with my mother, the flower arranging. All of that, just a total waste of existence!

I stare down at Sugimura, at the fear and pain that are plastered all over his face. I can see it in his eyes – he wants to know why I didn't escape, why I didn't run away. I wish I had an answer for him. I wish…for a lot of many different things. But mostly I wish that he and I had had more time together.

That's when it hits me. He found me, _rescued_ me. I would be dead without his help, without his protection. Sugimura saved my life when he found me out there in the playing field. He gave me hope, made me laugh, and protected me when we were in danger. I couldn't have done any of that alone. My _ki_, my life force, became entangled with his. If he died, then I would die. It wasn't just his battle with Kiriyama – it was _both_ of ours. We would succeed or fail as one being.

I smile at Sugimura. His eyes widen in surprise. I extend my arms out, wanting to feel his embrace one last time.

I hope he realizes it too. That he and I became a team, a partnership, a fusion. And that I hold no regrets. It was a…nice way to spend my last couple of hours in this world. To feel special, and worthwhile and…

BLAM!


	37. Boy Number 11: Hiroki Sugimura

I guess we can't help but be who we are.

I never liked that idea, it was too much like fate – that we were destined to be something or that we were born a certain way. The whole idea undermined the notion of _choice_ – that, ultimately, we could be anyone or anything we wanted, as long as we worked for it. There are certain exceptions, of course, like someone with no legs wanting to be the fastest person on the planet. There are restrictions we have to abide by, but for the most part, I liked the idea of going against my own nature, that I could truly become anyone I wanted.

The reason I wanted life to be this way is because I am a failure.

If there were a tag that was wrapped around my ankle when I was born, it would read: Hiroki Sugimura – FAILURE. That is my nature, it is what I am, way down at the core of my being. It used to depress me, when I was little. Below average grades, sub-par athletic abilities. I didn't even have any social grace – I was always too shy to make friends, and I was picked on…a lot. Sometimes I wonder why Takako and I became friends – if it was only because she could boss me around or…

It was a downward spiral for me – a harsh word here, an insult there, would just drive me into the dirt, and I became too sensitive – anything after that, no matter how small the slight, would just bury me further and further. And the whole time, I would tell myself that all this was my fault. That if I wasn't such a _failure_ that I wouldn't feel this bad, wouldn't be this much of a loser.

I thought about killing myself once. I found my dad's gun and I sat in our basement for a couple hours, just fumbling with the firearm in my hands, trying to build up the courage to point the gun at my head and pull the trigger. I kept picturing my parents walking down the basement stairs and seeing my corpse before stepping _over_ my body to grab some canned goods and heading back upstairs. But almost as much as I'm a failure, I'm a coward. I was scared, _terrified_, of the whole thing, and at the end of that time alone in the basement, I couldn't find it in me to pull the trigger. And what made me feel even worse, wasn't that I didn't want to die, but that I was too weak to even take control of my life. I had failed at failing.

But that is why I was so proud of myself for pulling the trigger out here, at Kiriyama. It was the culmination of all my hard work. In a way, it was me pointing the gun at _myself_ and executing my true nature, my belief that I was nothing more than a failure. I had trained hard, had worked hard, gotten stronger, made friends…and I told myself that I didn't have to be a failure if I didn't want to be! That I could fight my nature, my fate, my destiny, and that I could make choices that would make me _happy_.

But sitting here, looking at the girl I loved, or rather, the dead body that had once been that girl, I realize that I was wrong. All that effort, the martial arts, the discipline, my master, Takako, Shuuya, Shinji, Kayoko…they are all delusions. I thought I had chosen them, that I was moving away from myself, that I could be worthwhile and special. But I see now, now that they're all dead or dying, that I was deluding myself, delaying my inevitable failure. I believed I could protect them – I believed I could _save_ them! But in the end, I'm too weak to save them, or even myself.

I am a failure.

Blood oozes from the bullet hole in Kayoko's temple, but her pretty face is untouched otherwise. There's a soft smile on her face, although I can't understand it. What was it that kept her by my side, even when I told her to run away? What did she see in my face at her last moments alive that made her smile? These are the questions that are most important now – questions whose answers are forever lost to me.

I glance up at Kiriyama. I hate him, and not just because he's killed Kayoko and about to do the same to me. I hate him because he has reminded me of my destiny, my essence as a failure. He has beaten me, through and through, and I feel like I'm back in my basement, trying to decide whether I'm worth keeping myself alive or not. But the gun isn't in my hands anymore, it's in his. Kiriyama won't miss, won't hesitate. I know I should be afraid, but I'm not. Because my life isn't in my hands any longer – I don't have to worry about being a coward or a failure anymore – Kiriyama will decide my fate for me.

I take a long, deep sigh.

No…more…fear…

The gun erupts, and I feel a pressure burrowing itself inside my brain. My body topples to the side, the world spinning and falling with me. Her face is only a few inches away, and with some self-satisfaction I realize Kayoko's face will be the last thing I see. I want to apologize, to ask her forgiveness for, ultimately, being what I am. But this wasn't ever really about me. Not completely. It was about trying to be good enough for someone like her – someone whose core, whose destiny, whose whole being was made up of kindness…and beauty…

My vision slowly fades to black. My last words echo into the oblivion.

_All for her…_


	38. Girl Number 11: Mitsuko Souma

I'm not just showing her to Kiriyama. No, I'm letting them all see her. Kiriyama and Tadakatsu and Yuichiro and all the rest of them - the dozens of men who stand before me. The ones who said they loved me, the ones who said they'd do anything for me, the ones who saw me as nothing but a slab of meat they could jerk around.

Liars.

Fools.

Pieces of shit.

They don't deserve to see her. After all the broken promises, all the deceit, all the attempts to take my _trust_, they shouldn't be allowed to see her smiling face. But it doesn't matter now. One way or another, they learned their lesson. Financially, socially, physically – they all paid for their crimes in some manner. And yes, they warranted those punishments. Men are the reason this world is in such terrible condition – not a single male is free from scrutiny. They are the ones who bring pain, who selfishly think only of themselves, only with the piece of meat between their legs. And so that's all they can be – _meat_.

Magic Emily.

My protector, my bodyguard, my shield. Without her, who knows what bad things could have happened to me. She kept me safe, defended me when there was no one else to fill that void. And the reason she was able to do that is because she is from Daddy. My real father – the only man who was _forced_ to leave me, while all the others chose to depart on their own.

He's here now. That's why I'm showing Magic Emily to Kiriyama and the other men who stand behind him – to prove to him that he has lost. As long as she is in my possession, my Daddy is with me, and no harm can be done to me. These bullet holes will heal, the pains circulating my body will vanish, because Magic Emily will keep me safe.

And what did any of these other excuses for human beings do for me? Grunted and moaned and writhed while I kept them company in bed? How did that keep me safe or protect me from harm? Left to their own devices, men will destroy this world. It's up to me to show them who is in charge, to show them that they can't simply _take_ without giving anything in return!

How are you any different, Kiriyama? You may be able to disregard my sexual advances, but you're a taker, just like all the other men. You're trying to steal my life away! You're just as bad as the rest! You take and take and then call me a whore for giving it to you, for wanting, if only for a little while, to feel like I'm worth something.

Well, fuck you, Kiriyama.

You're going to look pretty silly when that gun goes off, and I'm still standing here, ready to slit your throat from ear to ear. You may think you're in control, but you're wrong. _I'm_ the one with the power! _I'm_ the one with the trust! You can't have them, and with Magic Emily on my side, you're absolutely nothing.

I guess, deep in my heart, I'll always be a…

"Daddy's girl," I whisper softly, just as the bullet rips through my beautiful face.


	39. Boy Number 6: Kazuo Kiriyama

I've been beaten?

_Me?_

No, this is simply a mistake. I can't lose – this is absolutely ridiculous! I don't lose at anything! How could The Program be any different? The answer is that it's not – The Program is just like any other activity, any other pastime. So, it's okay, the joke is over. It's time for me to stand up and kill these last three contestants, and then I can be the winner at this, just like everything else.

Sports, art, music – it's all very simple, really. It all comes down to actions – form and function. Perform the correct movements, and the desired outcome is produced.

Simple.

The violin? A toy, ultimately. Any number of sounds can be created, but people have a certain preference for specific sounds, with varying tempos and pitches. Once it has been determined which sounds create the desired effect on other people, the violin is mastered. Likewise, painting and sculpture are simply creations made by the correct stroke of a brush, or caress of a hand. Judo, bowling, any other number of physical activities – all based upon correct muscle movements of the body.

I don't understand how people can fail at such easy tasks. Form and function – if they don't know how something works, how can they possibly expect to _succeed_ at it? I guess that is what it comes down to – people are stupid. They don't take the time to learn, to explore, to experience life – they are too held back by societal norms and morality. I will not be bound by such notions – I am _better_ than them, and anyone else who adheres to them.

I had become increasingly bored before The Program. My rebellious underlings were losing their interest to me – it's just the same old story with them – violence and sex and drugs…how could they continue to enjoy those things? After a while, I would have expected them to move on to new thrills, but that was not the case – and their activities were slowly wearing on me.

My father had become distant over the years, focusing more and more on his political career. I suppose the death of my mother in that accident gained him a lot of pity votes, although I'm not fooled as to how much he _really_ misses her. Looking back, it was obvious she was having an affair with that painter – the one who did the sultry portrait of her. But back then I was still a little too naïve. It wasn't until the accident that I was able to put away my emotions, lock them away into the grey cells of my brain, and see things from a better perspective.

There's a flash of white light, and a blare of a car horn. My body tenses at the sounds, but I remind myself it's all in my head. The pain can't find me, not if I don't let it. Pain is simply a product of the brain, and can be suppressed, just like my emotions. I will NOT let such a primitive stimulus override my control, manipulate my actions.

I take a breath.

Form and function…back to grey…

That's right, everything is clear when it's grey – no bias, no expectations. Things simply _are_. Like me – I am the _best_.

"Oh my God!" a voice yells close to my face, "He's still alive!"

My eyes open, and I can see them, the three remaining contestants, all hovering over me. Shuuya is sobbing, but that's not a surprise. He's always been too emotional, and perhaps that aids him in the music department, but he'll always remain in mediocrity if he can't keep his emotions under control.

Noriko hovers just behind Shuuya. A mouse of almost no distinction, barely existing beyond her peers. How did someone like _that_ put a bullet through my face? It's utterly absurd! How did this pair manage to take me down? I fought and defeated much greater competitors than they – even _with_ Kawada's aid, there should have been NO WAY that they could have vanquished me.

I knew Mimura would be a difficult kill – he always managed to find an angle to exploit, and I didn't foresee the bomb he had built. But once that had been removed, he was just as easy to shoot. The same could be said for Sugimura, whose martial arts almost gave him victory – but his shortsightedness and his forgetfulness of my victory over "Froggy" Oda handed me the win. Hell, I'll even throw Mitsuko in the mix as well – because if I hadn't kept the world grey and instead took her up on her offer, she could have easily slit my throat with the razor I found hidden on her collar. She ended up being craftier than I expected, but no way near as smart as I am.

They all had so much talent, and so much drive, and so much ambition – but I was better than them all. Better than Kawada. I am the BEST.

Kawada remains a few feet away, and I can see in his eyes the urge to finish me off. He was a worthy opponent, and I knew he would be, when I recalled his previous performance on The Program. He's the current record holder – a record I would have shattered if I had managed to kill these three people. There isn't a shred of sympathy in his eyes, but he won't make a move, so long as the other two are around. He won't risk upsetting them. But I can see in his face how badly he wants to end me, and to drag it out. The other two may not be aware that I would have no problems throttling the three of them if they would be so kind as to place their throats into my hands, but Kawada knows it.

I hope he realizes that I would have killed him. Without the other two, he was just as dead as all the rest.

So how did I manage to lose to fucking _Shuuya and Noriko?_

This is a mistake. The Program was the thrill I had been searching for. A contest, to prove whom was the best. There was actually a challenge here – something that was lacking in the violin, in judo, in school, in _everything else_. I proved that I was the best – I killed all the major contenders, and had the last one dead to rights! I can still see the bullet hole in Kawada's stomach from my gun – there's no way he'll survive that!

Tell me! Why am I the one who's dying?

I take a long deep breath.

_Form and function_.

It doesn't matter how I lost. Not anymore. The grey tells me that I'm dying, and that I have been beaten. Beaten by people who weren't even on my radar, who I never would have expected to survive past day one. It was unforeseen, a highly improbable outcome. But I will not whine like a child. At the very least, I can give the winners some closure. It is what I owe them, for defeating _me_, the absolute best.

"I can…feel again," I say. And it's true – I can feel plenty of pain, and anger, and regret, and I'm sure Kawada can still sense the bloodlust I'm exuding. But if my small statement can convince them that my murder has affected me, changed me for the better, then I don't mind it.

You better do something important. You've murdered me – the person who could succeed at anything! You've killed me and any chance that I could impact the world. I'm dying so that you can live.

My eyes slowly close.

_You better be worth it._


	40. Boy Number 5: Shogo Kawada

I can't even remember when I got shot. That's how close I am to death – my memory is already fading to the point that I can't remember when the bullet ripped into my gut, or even who put it there. Was it Kiriyama? One of the guards on the boat? A stray bullet from Shuuya before I deactivated his and Noriko's collars? I guess, at this point, it doesn't really matter anymore. I've been bleeding for _hours_, been dealing with this sharp digging pain in my stomach.

I think, for a little while, I forgot about the gunshot wound. The pain was so consistent, that it just became a part of my existence, and faded into the background. Isn't the human body something special? To allow myself to ignore debilitating pain in order to keep going. I guess I'll always be a doctor's kid at heart. Some of the things I've seen, both in and out of The Program – I'll never ceased to be amazed how adaptive the body can become – how far we humans can push ourselves in order to keep progressing, to continue moving forward.

I've taught them how to steer the boat, and I've given them directions to where to head next. They'll be fine without me. I guess it's just some cruel irony that I won't be able to join them. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't upset about the whole thing. _I'm_ the one who put this whole plan together, who knew how to deactivate the collars, who kept us all safe from harm. Neither one of them would have stood a chance without me, and they're the ones that get to live.

I'm jealous.

I am. And it's not just because I'm dying. No, it's also because this was only supposed to be my first step in bringing down The Program. I can see it all now, how I would slowly dismantle the system, disable the whole game. This whole season of The Program was going to be my first act – my first of many, which ultimately would bring The Program and those who run it to their knees. It's not fair to lay that burden on Shuuya's and Noriko's shoulders – even though I feel it's their burden to carry now. I gave my all for the cause, and they're reaping the benefits.

Life.

I sigh – seeing their concerned faces hovering over my own, I'm reminded of why I decided to partner with them. The concern, the sympathy, the compassion these two exhibit for each other, for their classmates, for humanity – maybe they have it in them to change the world. After all, if the planet had more people like Shuuya and Noriko, then I doubt The Program would have ever come into existence to start with. It won't be easy for them, but I have a gut feeling (right next to the twisting pain) that my sacrifice won't be in vain.

And my gut is almost never wrong.

I can hear it in the distance, slowly getting louder. That annoying chirping. Damn, I can't even remember what type of bird it is, either. It's an easy one, too, something _known_ for the sound it makes. Some kind of robin? No, that's not it. Come on, I know this! I refuse to face her looking like an idiot. I want to just smile sideways and say, _I knew I'd find you if I just followed the sound of the (name of bird here)_. And she'll be so impressed that I can still remember all those useless facts from our ornithology class, she won't hate me for…for…for killing her.

I'm spewing nonsense now, talking like an idiot. I sound like Shuuya, trying to calm them down, but I think the fact that I'm being so chatty frightens them more than if I were saying nothing at all. I know I'm dying, they know I'm dying, and here I am jabbering away like I got something important to say. Truth is, all the important stuff has been said far in advance of this. We all knew that there were no guarantees, that there was a chance we wouldn't all make it out alive together. I wasn't the only one who had forgotten I was shot, apparently.

It's louder now. As my vision fades, the chirping increases, as if the two factors were related. Nah, can't be. It's simply my brain playing tricks on me, just like always.

Why can't I remember the name of that damn bird?

That's when I see her, staring down at me. She's looking at me, and it hurts more than anything I've ever felt to see her. I know I should feel happy, should experience some kind of relief, but all I can feel is shame and guilt and the loneliness that has settled over my entire existence since that moment I put a bullet into her forehead.

_I'm sorry_, I say, although I don't know if it's audible. The bird continues to call, the noise ringing inside my head. I reach up to her, trying desperately to recall the bird's name, if only to make her smile.

_It's the Canadian goose, right?_ And I don't even try to pretend that my guess is anywhere close to correct. Her face contorts into an expression of pure confusion, before suddenly bursting out into laughter, and my eyes immediately well with tears, because nothing has ever existed that is more beautiful than she is at this moment.

"_I guess we have some more studying to do,"_ she says, and reaches down towards me.

_You're right, as usual, Keiko._


	41. Boy Number 15: Shuuya Nanahara

I hate hospitals. I doubt there are many people out there that actually enjoy them, but I can't stand them. They're blindingly white, and not in a pure sense, but a sterile one instead. The antibacterial smell that comes with such a clean area only pushes that "sterility" point closer to home. It's like there is no life in hospitals, that the overwhelming cleanliness washes over everyone, sucking the vitality out of them. I guess it's kind of ironic, then, that life usually begins and ends in hospitals.

That statement, however, does not hold true for contestants in The Program. Sure, some may die in hospitals (there may be a hospital located within the playing field), and some may lose their life in a hospital when they are older (the winners do eventually die too). But for the vast majority, they die out there in the battle area. Riddled with bullets or sliced open or skulls split or broken necks or lungs full of water or beheaded by an exploding collar – whichever way it happens, they die out there.

Maybe that means I'm lucky. I mean, I _know_ I'm lucky, but is dying in a hospital one of those luxuries that I should be thankful I'm getting? Maybe, maybe not. I should have died out there in the playing field. I know that for a fact. Noriko and I…there was no way we should have survived. Hell, I was almost taken out a few seconds after I entered the game by Akamatsu. And then again a few hours in, when Motobuchi nearly shot my face off. And then again when Kiriyama…

I shake the thoughts away. I can still see their faces, still remember their names without any difficulty. I carry them all around with me, all day, every day. I feel like I owe them at least that. I'm not the reason that they all had to die, but…I guess I still feel guilty they're dead. My therapist says that's normal. But sometimes, when I'm asleep, in my dreams, I'm back there, with all of them. We're all standing outside the school, I'm rallying us all together. Gathering support – we can _all_ escape, I tell them. But I wake up, and I can't go back to sleep after that, not after seeing the joy in their faces, knowing that we _could have _escaped, that we _all_ could have survived.

But I don't feel lucky right now. I know I should be thankful that I've gotten more time than the rest of them. But I almost feel like I'm a waste. I haven't even turned thirty yet, and I'm dying. I know it's the same disease that took my mother away from me, and I know that I don't stand a chance against it. Already, my body is frail, and all of my muscle has eroded from my bones. I like to keep my hair long, but it's oily and stringy, and seems as limp as the rest of my body.

"Mr. Kawada?" I glance over at the nurse standing in the doorway. It wasn't easy adjusting to the new name, but when Noriko and I came to America, we couldn't go by our old names. We wouldn't pass for anything other than Japanese, given our limited knowledge of English, and so we decided to take Shogo's last name.

It seemed appropriate.

"Yes?" I manage to say.

"Your family is here." I smile and nod at her and summon some energy. I hate to let them see me so weak. I want to behave like my mother did for me, walking all the way down to the beach with me the night before she died. It must have been brutal for her, but the exhaustion is worth it – I want my children's memories of their father to be happy ones.

Ryoko is the first one into the room, rushing forward and leaping onto the bed. She wraps me in a big hug that only seven-year-olds know how to give.

"Daddy!" she says, full of vigor, full of life, "You look so thin!" But she's smiling, perhaps oblivious to the hospital around her. Noriko walks in next, holding the two-year- old Yoshitoki in her arms – the baby loves his mother, never wants to be put down. Ten-year-old Shogo (yes, we named our firstborn after Shogo – that, too, seemed appropriate) walks in last, holding back slightly. His eyes are glued to the floor, and I know he doesn't want to see his father in such bad shape.

"Rita, get off your dad before you hurt him," Noriko says, approaching the bed and planting a kiss on my forehead.

"Mom," Ryoko says, drawing out the long "o" sound, "We're alone here. Call me by my real name." Both Noriko and I smile at that, feeling a sense of pride in our daughter's acceptance at her birth name over her English moniker. Immigrating to America (especially when trying to avoid detection as escapees from The Program) is all about melding. Becoming like everyone else so as not to draw attention. That's why English adaptations of our names are important to us – so that no one thinks twice about us.

Ryoko gets off the bed and stands next to her mother, but she never stops smiling. I don't think I've ever seen a happier child than my little Ryoko. And, of course, over at the opposite spectrum is Shogo, brooding just like the man after which he was named. He's going to grow up big, bigger than I'll be. I think he'll take after my father in that respect. But I don't like thinking about that far in the future, mostly because I know I won't be there. And because there's still the tiniest inkling of fear that this disease that's robbing me of the rest of my life will also claim my children's lives as well.

"Shogo, come closer," I say, motioning to him with my hand.

"That's not my name," he says, remaining in the doorway.

"I'm sorry," I say, and again attempt to draw him into the room with my actions, "Shawn, please come here."

He still hasn't lifted his gaze from the floor, but he slowly moves forward, taking one step at a time, until he stands by the bedside. He finally looks up at my face, and I can see the discomfort it causes him to see his dad in such a sorry condition. He bites his lip and returns his gaze downwards.

I gaze up at Noriko, and she looks hurt as she glances at Shogo. This can't be easy for her either. Once I'm gone she'll have to raise three kids on her own. Granted, it should be a little easier thanks to The Resistance, but even so…

It's killing me to leave her. I…just can't find the right words to describe it. I feel like I'm abandoning her, like the two of us escaping was…was almost a joke. To escape death on that horrible island, only to die later, still at a young age…the irony isn't lost on me. But still I hate it. Things would be so much better if Shogo, the first Shogo, was still alive.

He'd take care of everything.

Noriko gives me a glance and a nod. I nod back and she shuffles the kids outside of the room, handing Yoshitoki over to Shogo (despite Ryoko's claims that she can hold the baby without dropping him).

"How's everything going?" I ask.

"The Resistance is getting ready to travel over to Japan to gain local support," Noriko says, "Not everyone, just those who can afford to make the trip without raising too much suspicion. I gave them the names of the people who helped us escape, that's a good place for them to start looking for recruitment."

"Good," I say. I stop for a moment, taking a few quick breaths.

"Are you sure you want to talk about this now?" Noriko says, reaching down and grabbing my hand. She's put on a little weight from the kids, but it looks good on her. She always looked a little fragile in my opinion, and the added girth suits her – she now resembles the inner strength I know she possesses.

"I don't think I have much time left," I say, and she doesn't say anything in reply. So I start up the conversation again. I know that Noriko will do a good job raising our kids, and I know she will lead The Resistance against The Program better than anyone else. I know she can do it alone, but it's not fair that she has to. I want to be here with her, to grow old with her. To watch my children age and mature and create children of their own.

Am I lucky or not?

When we're finished talking about it, I decide it's time for one last act. Noriko's eyes nearly pop out of her head when I swivel my legs off the bed and stand. And she gasps when my legs give out, and she rushes to my side. I wince at her, but I remind her that I've been shot several times in the past, that I can handle this small amount of pain. She smiles and kisses me, to which I respond with some innuendo, but she's heard it all before and rolls her eyes at me. The kids are shocked when they see me emerge from the room, and Ryoko almost knocks me over with another of her massive hugs.

"Let's go grab some ice cream, okay?" I say and Noriko doesn't object. Ryoko shrieks with joy and rushes off to the minivan to wait for us.

"Could you pass me Yoshi, Shogo?" I say and hold out my arms. And even though he doesn't smile, he also doesn't say anything about me calling him by his name. He hands me the baby and after I've adjusted to the added weight, I muss my son's hair with a free hand. He finally finds it in himself to smile, and I have to say, it's just like Noriko's – it lights up his whole face.

We sneak by the nurse's station, and out of the hospital. I know the ice cream will probably make me sick, but I'll choke it down. And I won't get frustrated when Ryoko drops hers and we have to buy her another one. And I won't get annoyed when Yoshitoki begins to cry for no reason. And I won't get depressed when Shogo tries to wriggle out of the hug I will give him.

Because I know this is our last outing. I know this will be our last time as a complete family. I know that when I return to the hospital, I will lay down in the bed, and I will die. _Today I will die._ And I know this was how my mother felt when we skipped down to the beach so many years ago. She knew, then, it would be the last time she could hold me. Just like I know, now. This will be the last day I spend with my kids, with Noriko, with my friends in The Resistance.

I guess I _am_ lucky after all.


	42. Girl Number 15: Noriko Nakagawa

I walk into the room, and in the distance, I can hear the piercing sounds of gunfire. I wonder if anyone from The Resistance is being killed at that moment, and I pray that that is not the case. Walking is difficult now without my cane, but I didn't plan to enter and face this man hunched over like some invalid. I stand as erect as I can, and feel the strain in my back.

"Miss Nakagawa," he says and rises from his seat behind the massive desk. It takes a second to realize that he's speaking to me, because I haven't been called by that name in a very long time. In fact, if I remember correctly, the last time was I was addressed in that manner, it was by Mr. Kamon.

A chill races up my back. That man had been terrifying. Not in a traditional sense, like when you watch a scary movie and know that someone was about to get killed by the serial killer hiding in the closet. Mr. Kamon was frightening in that he was absolutely crazy, most likely a sociopath. I remember feeling relieved when Shogo told me he'd killed Mr. Kamon, and I feel that relief again, knowing that he's still dead.

"Please, take a seat," he says and motions to a smaller chair facing his desk. I glance behind me, and see Ryoko standing on one side of the door, Yoshitoki on the other. My two children look uncomfortable, but they've been training for this moment for years. I wouldn't want anyone else with me at this moment.

We've been able to storm The Program building with very little trouble. With my oldest son, Shogo, leading the mission, we'll have this whole building in rubble in no time. There will be casualties on both sides, but once this tower has collapsed, the last remaining symbol of The Program will be destroyed. There will be other obstacles to face, of course, but there will no longer be a shadow cast over this whole country from this horrid building.

But first…

"If you don't mind," I say, stepping forward a little further, "your chair looks so much more comfortable. Would you care very much, handing it over to an elderly woman?"

The smile on his face falters only slightly, but he walks around and even lends me his arm. I see my two children tense up at seeing me so close to him, but I assure them with a slight nod. And then, to remind them, I raise a finger to my lips. They are not to speak. At all. They are simply here to escort me to this office, and then safely out again.

Truthfully, this man's chair looks very uncomfortable, but that isn't the point. It is simply a power play – he's not in control of the situation, and I will sit in his seat to drive that point home to him. I settle into the cushion and discover, to my dismay, that it _is_ a very uncomfortable chair. He moves around to the other side, and then sits in the chair he offered me. I hear a slow exhale emerge from his lips. And I don't miss the soft tremble it makes at the very end.

"I'm sure you know why we're here," I say, leaning forward. The man stares at me, and I see an iciness in his eyes that seems a little familiar. He doesn't like that I've taken control away from him. Even something like this, this utter surrender that he will be offering, he wanted it on _his_ terms. I suppose I would expect nothing less from the Director of The Program.

"I know why _you_ think you're here," he says, reclining as far as he can in his seat. "You think that destroying this building will change things. That killing me or taking me hostage will eradicate The Program. Sorry, but I'm just the latest head of the hydra that is The Program. Cut me off, and another will take my place." He chuckles softly to himself. "I hate to break it to you, but you cannot change how things are. All you've done is shed some blood, furthering our evidence that this so-called Resistance is nothing but a terrorist group-"

"You're close," I say, interrupting him. His face reveals an intense anger at having been stopped mid-sentence. But I don't plan to let this man run the show. Too many people are counting on me to get this done. "You're right about thing though – after you, there will be another Director. And she's right over there." I point at my daughter Ryoko, and the man turns his head to gaze at her.

"And just how will _she_ become the next Director?" He turns back toward me, smiling wide. The smile reminds me of someone, but I can't remember who. All I know is that it sends shivers down my aching back.

"You're going to pass the flame to her," I say, "Right here, right now."

He stops, frowns. He opens his mouth to speak, and then closes it. Slowly his face relaxes.

"Brilliant," he says, "Almost incredibly so. You force me into naming her as my successor. And once that's done, you have her dismantle The Program, piece by piece. Legally." He takes a breath. "I'm impressed."

"Good," I say, "then you can stop wasting our time and get on with the ceremony."

"You've overlooked something, though," he says, reclining as best he can in the chair. "This plan only works if I agree to it. You can't take the position from me – I _have_ to relinquish it to her."

"I know that," I say with a nod. He leans forward now, trying to intimidate me the best he can.

"What if I refuse?"

Yoshitoki cocks his gun, as if to answer the question without speaking. I can't get too angry, because he's fulfilled his promise not to say anything. And actually, by this action, he allows me to say the answer without talking either. This man, the Director, will give the title to Ryoko now, or die.

"If death is all you threaten me with, you can save your breath," he says with a sigh, almost like he's disappointed with us. "Dying in the name of my government would be a welcome addition to all the services I've done for them. Your group will look even _worse_ because of my murder."

He gazes behind himself at my two kids, and I take the moment to glance at my watch. We don't have much time left before Shogo and the rest escape and detonate the bombs they've planted.

"This is all the follow-through you have?" he says, "Such an ingenious plan – and this is the best you could come up with to implement it?" He chuckles into the dark air. "How so very…disappointing."

I knew it would probably come to this. There was no way that a person could become the Director of The Program and still be completely sane. This man clearly would rather become a martyr than to keep his life. Everything for his image, his reputation, his honor.

He stands up, as if to tell us that the meeting is over. To get out of his office. He looms over me, and lights flash before my eyes. Have the bombs gone off? No, that's not it at all. I'm back in my old school uniform, and even though I'm not looking at it, I can feel a bullet deep inside my calf. I'm kneeling over Yoshitoki's body – not my son, no, the _first_ Yoshi, one of my best friends. I see him standing over me, the big lips, the curly hair, the flat nose, the pudgy cheeks.

And suddenly, I'm back. Back at the desk, staring at the Director. With his big lips, curly hair, flat nose, pudgy cheeks…

My eyes fly to the name on the door. No, it's not _his_ name. But I'm sure of it. I'm _positive_. And then everything comes together. The pieces all fall from the sky and land exactly where they should be.

"Have you heard of the Bastard Act?"

His face drops. It takes a moment, but suddenly, he knows. He knows that I know. And he knows that I've got him cornered.

"It's a rather unfair act, don't you agree?" I say, also rising from the seat, "It was used to deter men from bearing children out of wedlock. Can't have bad morality in the best country in the world, can we?"

He still hasn't replied, so I continue. "The law states that any child created out of wedlock has certain restrictions placed on it. A second-rate citizen. One of those restrictions-"

"You bitch," he finally speaks.

"-is that no bastard can hold a government position."

He doesn't reply. His hands are clenched into fists, and I've noticed that he's sweating.

"Mr. Kamon was my Instructor for The Program," I say. I pause, "Did you know him?"

I don't get a response, he's clearly trying to think of some way out of this. But he won't find one. It's his worst fear – losing all the power, all the prestige, all the glory he'd built up to that point. He knows it too – he's about to lose everything he cares about. Does he give up his position as Director to save face? Or does he let us ruin him, knowing that he'll be stripped of all honors?

"He told us that he'd raped a woman when we were all introduced," I say, "God knows how many women he raped throughout his life. I don't know you got around the system. Maybe your mother never reported the rape, said that you were your father's biological child."

He's shaking with fury. If he could get away with it, he'd kill all three of us. But that won't happen, and even if he tried, he'd die and we'd still stain his name. He'd still fail.

"If it's any consolation," I say, "even if you never knew him; you're exactly like your father."

I'm lucky. I realize that – lucky that I recognized this man as being an illegitimate son of Kamon, lucky that this man knows of his bastard status, lucky that this man cares more about his good name than anything else. I don't know if I believe in fate – but this is the best evidence for it that I've ever witnessed.

_Shuuya, if you could only see me now._

The ceremony was quicker than I imagined it being. A few recited texts, the Director hands Ryoko the badge, and then he moves to the computer, inputting the passing of rites officially into The Program database. When all is said and done, only three minutes have passed. We turn to leave, a triumphant smile on my face. We did it! We have the power to officially eradicate The Program, once and for all. The war will not be over so easily, there would still be other battles, legal or otherwise, but this is the biggest leap The Resistance has made ever since Shuuya and I founded it, all those years ago.

A take one long sigh of relief.

"Do you know," the ex-Director says, seated at his desk in his uncomfortable chair, "what that breath says to me?"

I realize that he's talking to me, and I turn to face him, Yoshitoki immediately stepping forward at my side.

"It tells me that you're nothing but one lucky bitch," the man says, rising to his feet, "That stuff about the Bastard Act, true that it is, is just something that you realized here and now, and that it is not common knowledge throughout The Resistance."

My aching body tenses. I realize that there's something in his hand, an object he pulled from his desk. Before anyone can react, he fires the gun, and I hear Yoshitoki grunt in pain. I scream something, although I don't know what it is.

"When the Director of The Program is killed," he says, aiming the gun at Ryoko, who is frozen I place, "Power reverts back to the previous Director, provided that said person is still alive."

He smiles in glee.

"Once you three die, my secret is safe, and I'm still Director! I win!"

I watch him pull the trigger. I don't know if I moved before him, or if time slowed down, just for me. All I can see is my daughter's face, watching her age from a happy, high-energy little girl, to a talented and intelligent woman. I can't let her die, I can't let any of my children die! How could I face Shuuya? What could I possibly say to justify the death of one of our children?

_NO! NOT MY BABY GIRL!_

The bullet hits me – I know because I've been shot before. I topple to the floor, and before I know what I'm doing, I pull out a memento I've been holding onto for a long time. I aim the revolver, the same revolver I used to shoot Kiriyama in the face, and pull the trigger.

The ex-Director recoils, but I don't see him drop. He's aiming the gun again, but a few quick pops emerge from the other side of the room. Yoshitoki comes into view, a hand clutching a bleeding shoulder, but otherwise he's fine. I hear the man's body hit the floor, followed by silence.

Ryoko is at my side, trying to lift me up, apologizing for hesitating, for almost getting herself killed, for getting me shot. I steal a glance at my watch and gasp. We've wasted too much time here – the bomb will detonate soon! Too soon for a young woman and a young man who has been shot to escort an injured elderly lady out of the building. My daughter is still talking a mile a minute, but I smile at her and shush her with a soft caress to her cheek. I stare up at Yoshitoki with conviction in my eyes.

"Make sure the both of you get out of here alive," I say. I see the pain in my son's face, the realization of what I'm asking him to do. But he smiles and nods, and quickly scoops up Ryoko, carrying her on his shoulder.

"What are you _doing_?" she cries out, but she knows full well what is happening. The priority is to get her out alive. We can deal a devastating blow to The Program with the power that Ryoko now wields.

After all, who's going to miss an insignificant old lady anyways?

"I love you," I say as two of my children disappear from the room. I push myself to my knees, feeling the pain arch through my entire body. I've never felt as old as I do now. I climb to my feet, and stagger over to the large window. I stare out at the city surrounding us. I realize I'm crying, and I feel ridiculous. Today was a victory – more so than we could have ever imagined. This is everything we could have wished for – and more! I have no regrets dying today.

There's a flash from far below, and it encases me in its pure glow. I shield my eyes, letting them get used to the glare. When that happens, I see a hand reaching out to me, and I take it, watching as the figures appear before my eyes.

"It appears our class is now complete," Mr. Hayashida says with a soft smile. I grip the hand tighter, and smile at Shuuya as he squeezes back. I let my eyes wander, taking in the smiles and grins of my classmates, feeling their joy surround me.

"I did my best, everyone!" I say, my voice young and high. It appears I've been transformed too, back to that time when we were all brought together, when we were all torn apart. Some of them nod, some smirk, some say nothing at all, they just _exist_.

"I knew I couldn't face you all without…" I trail off, hoping that my actions speak for themselves. I bite my lip nervously, "I hope I did good enough. I hope I made you all proud!"

"You did good, kid," Shogo says with a smirk.

"You were worth it," Kazuo says, and I'm not exactly sure what he means, but it sounds supportive. I hear similar phrases from others, and their voices are just like I remember them. I don't think I realized how much I missed them all, how I carried them around with me every day. They're all here – each and every one of them. I guess we were meant to be together, and The Program is the string of fate that bound us all.

"Okay, class," Mr. Hayashida says, "Gather around. It's time for us to go."

"Finally!" Mitsuko says, followed by a wink in my direction, and then everyone chuckles along with her. I discover that, once again, I'm crying. And I still feel ridiculous.

"Anything wrong, Nori?" Shuuya says, pulling me close. I try to say something, but a noise that's half sob and half giggle emerges from my throat. I take a deep breath, and shake my head.

"No," I say, "Everything's perfect."


End file.
